


Ghostly Brother of His

by Silver_Melody



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Paranormal, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Melody/pseuds/Silver_Melody
Summary: She didn't understand what had happen, nor did she know why she did it. All she knew was that a ghost was standing in her room with the name of a death sibling who also happens to be the brother of her growing crush: Glenn.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Annette Fantine Dominic & Glenn Fraldarius, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	1. A Summoning of a Wandering Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, first time posting here and first story I'm showing.. Hopefully goes well. I tend to chatter a lot so I'll just chatter at the end.

Annette is not the bravest. She doesn't rush into battle like Caspar, but she doesn't stalk the shadows, calling it like a second home similar to Hubert. Yet she holds her ground when the enemy attacks, knowing that they will hurt her friends if she doesn't. She still studies and practices dark magic, something that her teachers at her old school commended her for excelling at. She can still fight with the small pockets of courage she has. 

Yet unlike her best friend, she can't help but be jumpy for hours at end from a simple ghost story. It amazes her how well Mercedes can handle such tales.

A shiver ran through her before she turned to the next page.

To be fair, they live in a world of magic. And with magic, everything is possible to the limit of the wielder. One can learn spells from a very early age and be able to cast low B tier spells by the time they are able to enroll in sorcery school. Those with Crest are given a boost, depending on the type of Crest they have, can weld and shape the earth or change the weather with their magic. Lysithea is a prime example of that. And relics, if one was to wield one, who knows how strong someone one could be.

And as always, magic is limited to its wielder, and which is why she tries her best to go beyond her limit.

Much like someone she knows.

Dismissing her thoughts, Annette focused back to the book that started her unnecessary fear of the paranormal.

After she and Mercedes made some sweets with Ashe, all three of them went to pass the desserts out since there was really no point keeping the treats to themselves. They were handing out the last of the sweets in the library when Annette saw Lysithea in the corner with a concentrated look in her eyes as she read a book of sorts. From what she could tell, the book looked old. The book had a dark blue cover, torn and scratched, with pages a deep yellow as they wrinkle around the edge.

She should have left, seeing as how the young mage was focused solely on the book at hand. But Annette didn't feel that it was right as the girl was the biggest fan of sweets out of all of them. So without a second thought, she walked over to Lysithea with the three sweets at hand.

As soon as she was close enough to do so, she tapped at the mage's shoulder and spoke, "Hiya, Lysithea!"

She shouldn't have done that.

Startled, the girl screeched and her whole body jumped from her seating spot, throwing her arms up in a defensive state. At the same time, Annette also reacted and jumped from the screech and stepped away from her.

Unfortunately, as she did so, the tray of sweets that she had was hit by Lysithea's arms.

Both watched in horror, Annette from her hard work going to waste and Lysithea from the thought of such sugary edibles crash at the floor.

However, Ashe, who saw the whole thing, managed to grab the tray before it could fall any further. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the goddess for his past thief like reaction.

"Annette," snapped the young girl, annoyance and hints of anger apparent in her eyes. "Please explain to me why you decided to sneak up on me!"

"I’m really sorry!" she apologized frantically. Knowing the full extent of Lysithea’s anger, she tried to explain her way out. "You see, I only wanted to give you some sweets Mercie helped us make and I know how you like cake and I just thought-"

As soon as she heard 'cake', Lysithea looked at the tray Ashe had. True, she may have smelled the sweet scent before she even saw the treats nearly crash on the ground, but she did not see them clearly enough in her state of shock.

And low and behold, three slightly tilted sweets from the fall were on the silver tray. Each delicately glazed in honey that covered the raspberries and almond nuts that sat on top of the white cake, glistening and sparkling under the candlelight. Each like a piece of gold from a buried treasure.

Whatever sort of anger remaining had flown out the window when she laid her eyes on them.

"Alright alright," Lysithea cut off Annette, no longer needing the details as to why she scared her, all thoughts on the taste of the treats. "You can stop your babbling. Just-," she hesitated.

Not wanting to waste her opportunity, she complied. "O-of course!” She smiled happily, knowing that the problem was taken care of. “Here, let me get that for you."

Taking the tray from Ashe's hands who offered no resistance, she gave her fellow Blue Lion the three cakes much to her delight.

Happy that things were forgiven, Annette turned to look for the third person who was supposed to hand out the last of the treats with them. As it so happens, she didn't need to look far as Mercie was right at the other side of the table, curiosity in her eyes as she flipped through the pages of the old book that Lysithea had been reading.

"What are you reading there Mercedes?" Ashe asked. He didn't watch them long enough to know that it was the same book that Lysithea was reading moments ago.

Lysithea turned to see what he was talking about. Instantly, her face paled.

"I'm not exactly sure," Mercedes said as she flipped a page. Her eyes skimmed a sentence before it widened slightly. “Ah, is this a ghost story?” Mercedes asked, voice slightly quivering with excitement.

' _Oh_ ,' she thought. ' _Oh no._ ' Annette tried to surpass the chill that went through her spine.

This will not be good.

"A-A ghost story?" Ashe asked, not exactly too keen on the idea of ghosts.

"Well… I believe it is, but the more that I look at it, the more it seems like it's not a story about ghosts but a book of ghosts." Mercedes hummed in delight.

"Close," Lysithea intervened as she held her hand out. Mercedes compiled and gave her back the book. "It's an old book that Tomas gave to me. He said it talks about the paranormal and activities related to it and the use of dark magic related to it. Ghosts are certainly related. There's a number of documents about them." And in a small whisper, "Too many documents."

Ghost? It's not uncommon to hear a ghost story. Most are seemingly untrue. They were just old wives tales that were spun off and heard in taverns. Tales of the paranormal itself are often scoffed at as there are no such things as men turning into wolves and humans that drink blood.

But as she glanced at the book, she suddenly felt a strange feeling as if maybe that such spin off tales might be true. Something whispered to her to reach out and flip through the pages, to become awestruck by all the words written in such old and faded writing. It almost seemed as if something was pulling her towards the book. Maybe she should just-

‘ _What are you doing, Annie? Pull yourself together!_ ’

Absurd. It’s absurd. It has to be.

"But why would you read something like that?" Annette questioned with a face of both fear and curiosity. Both from the mage's actions and the feeling of being pulled at. While she and the mage may not have the friendship that she and Mercedes have, they still have a decent enough relationship to know that Lysithea is a fan of sweets and scared of ghosts while Annette like to sing and admire-

She halted both her thoughts and her cheeks from going red. Why must she, now of all times, think of him?

"Normally I wouldn't read books over such childish things." She rolled her eyes (an act of playing it off her fears) before flipping to the first few pages of the book, which revealed a table of contents. Annette fought the urge to sneak a peek over her shoulders. "But from here, it talks about rituals and enchantments that are related to the dead. It's something I thought the Church would never allow."

"Rituals? What kind of rituals?" Ashe asked curiously.

"Well,like this one," she pointed somewhere on the pages," says here that this ritual is used to help one see the dead. It was mainly used after wars that were either ended or put on hold. But it also says here that it was used to make the deceased haunt their enemies to their death bed." Lysithea answered Ashe, whose face had paled. "Yet the practices of these rituals were banned by the people and the Church, as many saw that those who used this power were the enemy to all. For death is the enemy of all men."

"Hmm, that reminds me of a story I heard in the monastery," Mercedes hummed, finger tapping down at her chin as her eyes look skyward.

Annette knew. She knew what would happen if she did not stop the eldest right there and now. How many hours of sleep she'll miss with fascinated curiosity, and horror, as she will be pulled in by her best friend's voice to listen and swayed not to interrupt.

Before Annette could utter a word, someone else beat her to the punch.

"A story, you say? What was it about?" Ashe moved the tray to be sandwiched between his side and arm.

Annette felt her shoulders drop.

"Well..." Mercedes began, "From what I heard, there was once two students who were deeply in love with each other here in the Monastery. They did everything together and were said to be inseparable. But, one day, when the boy left for battle he was killed in front of his classmates and professors."

"The day they came back, they saw the girl, his lover, waiting at the gates of the Monastery. No one wanted to tell her what had happened to the young man but eventually the professor of the class told her what had happened. She was heartbroken over the news, crying every night for her lost love. Everyone who saw her felt her pain over her loved one and they all tried their best to comfort her. Months passed and they all thought it was hopeless to help bring her back to her kinder self. Then one day, she suddenly stopped and everyone was relieved that she was no longer grieving. But it came with a cost."

"A-A cost?" Ashe stuttered out, the bravest out of the three, though that doesn't say much from his quiver.

"Yes," she answered, waving her hands in the air. "She started to speak to the air, seeming to be able to grab something in midair. And during the night you can see her wandering around the monastery. When they ask why she was walking all alone after curfew, she'd always say that she was never alone and continue on with a smile on her face. When the girl graduated, the staff that was sent to clean her room screamed when they walked inside."

Annette clutched onto the strap of her shoulder bag with knuckles white. Lysithea softly whimpered. Ashe visible shaking. All three of them were too cowardly to stop the soft-spoken woman.

"They never found out why the staff screamed," her voice becoming nothing but a soft whisper. "But they say that the girl was never seen after she left the monastery. All traces of her very existence were gone."

Annette shivered. Was it cold in here or was it just her?

"But there was a rumor after she disappeared. They say that the girl summoned her lover from the dead with a ritual and formed a contract with him. That's why they say her room smelled of smoke and why the walls were covered in white powder. And why she disappeared."

Mercedes then had an excited spark in her eyes as she smiled to Annette, "And do you want to know what else?"

Annette knew that look. _'No, she doesn't want to know!_ '

"The very room you have Annie," ' _-Mercie!!!!_ ' "Is the same room as the girl in the story."

Dread filled every part of the carrot tops body like a heavyweight was being pushed on her chest. The girl, the ghost, the ritual, was performed in the very room she sleeps in! Does that mean there's a ghost haunting her? Watching her sleep and following her?! And what about the girl?! Maybe she's the one who's haunting her room instead of her lover! Does that mean she's going to disappear too?!

"But then again, I could be mistaken," Mercedes said, looking out at the open door to see the setting sun in the windows of the hall. She turned back to her three classmates. "Well, we better be going soon. It's almost time for supper."

Silence.

"Does anyone want to come with me to the Dining Hall?"

"I'll g-go with y-you." Despite the small quiver in his voice, Ashe held a strong front as he walked away with Mercedes to put away the trays they used from the sweets. Though the trays kept on hitting and shaking each other, a sign that Ashe's voice wasn't the only thing quivering.

Silence between the two mages hung over them for a moment.

"W-well," Lysithea recovered first, shutting the book in her hands. Annette wisely said nothing about the high pitch in her voice. "It seems that the library will be closing soon so I should go give this back to Tomas."

She should have felt relief from her words, that the book that started it all will be closed and locked away from her sight. She should have been fine with this.

But the feeling of being pulled was stronger than ever.

As Lysithea stood up with the book at hand, she only managed to take one step before a hand clapped over her wrist.

"Wait."

She didn't know why, nor did she understand what was going on at that time. But in the moment, as Lysithea turned to take away, the book out of her sight, something told her to not let her take it away. Her stomach had butterflies inside with the thought of holding, reading it, using it, but for whatever reason, her body acted on its own. Her heart was racing as she put her hand on Lysithea’s shoulder.

Complied, Lysithea looked at Annette, wondering why she stopped her.

Then Annette asked.

"Can I borrow the book?"

Lysithea was completely puzzled. She must have heard wrong.

"What?" She said in disbelief.

"Ah," Annette sounded, not knowing yet knowing what was going on. As much as she didn't want to, she continued. "Err… Can I borrow it? The book I mean. I-I sort of want to read it?"

Why does it seem that when she questioned her friend she is also questioning herself?

"Are you sure," white eyebrows rose. "I know you like to study, just as much as I do. But do you really want to read _this_ book Annette?"

 _No._ "Yes."

Dubiety, but not reluctant, she passes the book to her.

Instantly, as soon as her fingers grazed over the cover to hold on to it, the pull inside of her settled down and let at ease. She felt like she could breathe again, the weight gone off her shoulders, and her stomach did not turn.

"All right, but you better give it back to me by the same time tomorrow," Lysithea warned. "Tomas gave me the book, and I would rather not have someone else give it to him when it was given to me to read."

On other occasions, Annette probably would have protested at the girl as she was the one asking her to borrow it without the owner knowing but the feeling of being 'free' distracted her from even offering. "Ok, I'll give it to you tomorrow at sunset. You can count on me."

"Good." And with that they both walked to the dining hall, Annette storing away the book in her small bag.

Time passed as they gathered to get a plate of today's special, the Sweet Bun Trio and Peach Sorbet for dessert- much to the girl's delight. They sat with their fellow Lions and chatted amongst each other during dinner.

But despite being surrounded by the people she knew, the feeling came back. Her mind insisted on wandering back to the book in her bag, feeling it to become heavier and heavier as the more time she went without touching it.

She didn't realize that she became quiet until someone called on her name.

"Annette… Annette!"

"Huh..?" Annette tore her eyes away from her bag. "A-Ah! Sorry, Sylvain... Did you say something?”

The said man smiled at her and winked. "No worries. I just wanted your opinion on the Professor's reason lesson today. For someone as cute as you, I’m sure the information is bound to stick with me." Tilting his head at her his eyebrows frowned. "But are you ok? You were spacing out for a while there."

She waved it off. "I'm fine, just a bit impatient to study some more."

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard Annie," Dorothea frowned. "You have to take care of that body of yours. Wouldn't want that cute face of yours to be ruined," she winked.

Annette somehow felt attacked by the two.

"Don’t worry, Dorothea. I'm fine, see?" Annette assured the other singer by taking a scoop of her sorbet.

“Well, if you say so, Annie. Though, if there’s anything wrong, I’m always here,” Dorothea said, giving another of her charming winks before taking a bite of her own. Still her eyes followed her.

It took a while but Annette managed to get them off her back after she promised to go to her bed early, seeing how she always went to the library after dinner. This was still fine by her since she planned to read the blue book in her room. She didn't want anyone to see her while she was reading it and decided that her room was the best private place to do so.

Finally, after they all said their goodnights to each other, they headed for their dorms. Annette was most eager to do so - with a click of her lock after saying her final good night's, the book was opened - unleashing the many secrets that it held.

Hours passed, and she remained buried deep in the book with only her candle and the moonlight through the window help let her see the words through the dark. She read about religions that consisted of witchcraft, blood spells that could harm you (and absolutely would) if said wrong, location spells, possession spells, enchanted sight. All of it being very fascinating, along with much, much more.

Then before she knew it, she was reading on about ghosts. How their spirits will float away to the skies to find peace and live away from the land. They were meant to rest, and that all bad or good souls deserved a quiet end. However, there are those who weren’t allowed to rest. They are the spirits that stay earthbound, all tied by their unfinished desires. Wandering and watching. Some don't stay for long, while others remain for hundreds of years.

It seemed so… sad. It made her think that they weren’t as scary as she thought they had been. For someone to be watching and waiting with no control or influence to the world must make them seem trapped.

It wasn't the teaching of the Church, however, which was probably why it was frowned on and not on display on the shelves. She couldn’t help but frown herself when she thought about it. This book may not be ethical with its spells, but it wasn't all bad either.

Thinking back on the girl who owned this book before (she must have right?), she hoped that she and her lover somehow ended up together in peace, true or not.

She flipped the page and suddenly, the feeling of being pulled washed over her, stealing away whatever control she had and glued her eyes to the ancient text.

_ The Summoning of Lost Souls: A Crepuscular _

This must be what Mercie was talking about. How the girl must have had a summoning ritual for her lover that was lost in battle. The one that started the story.

The one that somehow made her become so drawn to the book in the first place.

_The incumbents:_

_Five flares from the sun_

_Magic named after twilight_

_Memories of the soul_

_Moonlight of the hour of the dead_

A m _-_

Her mind reads every word, repeating over and over the ongoing list of items and substances needed for the summoning. Her body was moving on its own, gathering the items in her room, lining them up. She cleared the space in the middle of her room, effortless from how many times she would regularly clean the place. Using her fingers, she drew a star in the center of the floor with a piece of chalk on her desk, using the tips of her fingers to lit a small flame, and careful not to make a sudden breeze.

She blinked.

And the ritual was set.

The panic she expected to rise never came, but a shot of adrenaline replaced it instead. The burst of energy felt good as she was tired from staying up so late in the night. Maybe she should have gone to bed instead of reading that book. A nap would feel nice around now.

_'All right but you better give it back to me by the same time tomorrow.'_

No, she wouldn't have enough time. She wouldn't be able to stop this feeling. She would never have gotten this chance to…

To….

To what?

She didn't know, nor did she seem to care. Something was guiding her, pushing her to do this. The feeling that seemed to be so heavy on her shoulders was now a gentle hand guiding her. It urged her to turn the page and her hands follow. It told her to trace the words and her fingers follow. When her finger stopped at a section of the book was the same time the force that had guided her stopped.

It was the loudest and clearest command of them all.

Read.

Words, both words of old and mix of new string out from her mouth. She said the chant with her magic pooling inside of her, reaching out and dripping with her fingertips. Her hand waved over the circle, somewhat slow in its motion as the magic flowed to the center of the symbol.

The candles flickered. The white seemed to glow. A gentle cold wind came into the room.

When the final word was said she stopped, a snap inside of her demanded her to do so. Tired, from both sleep and the use of magic, she opened her eyes.

There was a man in the middle of the room with her.

His back was turned to her so he did not see her jump as she backed away from him. Unfortunately for Annette, he heard the squeak of surprise from her as she did so. He turned around.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

It was Felix, the man in the middle of the room with her was Felix. He wasn't wearing his officers academy uniform but was instead wearing a cap with fur along the trim with armor hidden underneath it. A badge of the royal family was sewed on the cap alongside his sword and knives on his belt. His hair was loose for the first time with a braid behind each ear before meeting in the middle to form one.

He looked like a royal knight and her mind halted a bit. Felix would never wear such an armored uniform. Ingrid told her as much.

Yet the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. "...Felix?"

Felix blinked, soft amber (soft?) eyes looking at her. "You know Felix?"

That… that was not Felix's voice. It was deep but had a more carefree feeling than the demanding tone he would unconsciously have. Soft and careful but still with a strong voice with the power for anyone to stay and listen.

Still, she did not feel comforted, only confused and scared. "Who are you?"

"Me?" Felix - not Felix - blinked again. "I'm his brother, Glenn."


	2. So... it wasn't a dream after all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events after the summoning, the next morning, and the delivery of heartbreaking news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially a very slow burn story, I have to run through another Blue Lions route so I can see how the story will be effected with me just recruiting everyone and the Ashen Wolves as well. But for now, I'm going to drag this on till I get to the first support for sweet Annette and Felix on this story.
> 
> With a very awkward brother on the side.
> 
> (Also if its says Golden Deer anywhere plz tell me to fix)

Daylight spilled in the room, filling it with its gentle glow. A sign that the morning has come. The staff and faculty rose alongside the sun, ready to start and prepare for the day.

A few hours later, the sound of a bell chime rang through the halls.

Ever so slowly, the young girl stirred in her bed with a frown. A warning that she did not want to be disturbed at her moment of peace.

“Hey. You better wake up. The bell just rang.”

Annette moaned and rolled over the sheets, taking her blanket with her and curled herself in its warmth.

A couple more minutes passed.

The sound of students walking down the halls to class and greetings for one another was muffled by the closed door.

Glenn glanced at the closed door before turning to the cocoon of wool on the bed. “I really think you should get up.”

The ball of wool shifted. “No…. just a little longer.”

Glenn sighed at this girl. This idiotic girl that so happened to summon him out of all people. If she was so tired, why did she spend so much time reading last night? Why did she even summon him if the consequence of her actions would exhaust her past her limit? She should have been more careful to done something so reckless! Maybe not even doing the summon at all!

Still, the girl was tired. Yet she still needs to get to class.

Not knowing what to do, he let her be.

Unknowing to him, Annette was not tired in the slightest, too stunned by the turning event from last night to get up and face the rest of her classmates.

_“Glenn?” Annette blinked, shock filled all over her body. “Your… Glenn?”_

_“Yes,” was his answer as he studied her, both curious and cautious. Simple and straight to the point._

_‘His response was like that of Felix’s as well,’ her mind unhelpfully supplied. The difference was that while Felix’s response would cut through, sharp and demanding, Glenn’s was that of bluntful honesty._

_So different, yet so alike._

_‘Brothers,’ her mind screamed for the upmost time. ‘This is his brother. His dead brother who just happens to be standing in my room!’_

_Would anyone blame her if she faints? There’s no one in her room to judge her? Only the supposedly dead brother it seems. Not that it would matter._

_“Hey,” the man - Glenn, his name is Glenn, Felix's brother - stepped closer to her. Concern was written all over his face. Well… as much concern as he could show. It was strange to see that expression on Felix's face, or someone similar to his face. "Are you ok? Your shaking."_

_Was she? Annette looked down at her hands and saw that he was right. They were gripping at the edges of her skirt, trembling._

_Was she scared? No, she wasn't. But everything was going too fast. Was she in shock?_

_"Uh, hey now," Fel-Glenn gently grabbed her shoulders to make her face him. When did he get there? He was in the middle of the room a second ago? How is he touching her? Is he a ghost? A spirit? Was she cured? Will she be in trouble? Does someone know?! Did sh-_

_"Stop that." 'Ah, he's still here.' "Look," an uncomfortable look crossed his face as he continued to talk to her. "I don't know who you are or where I am, but can you please try to calm down? At least take some deep breaths?"_

_Deep breaths? Yes… yes, she can do that._

_Deep breaths._

_In._

_Out_

_In._

_Out._

_In. Out_

_Her breaths were ragged like she had been underwater for too long before coming up for air, greedily choking in air. But it helped. Slowly she was calming down, her breathing became softer and softer after time has passed._

_At the same time, Glenn watched her, this strange girl who was currently recovering from shock. This girl who happened to teleport him from the castle to her room. This girl who happens to know his brother's name._

_He narrowed his eyes at her._

_Who was she to know his little brother's name? He did not remember Felix ever telling him about a girl with orange hair. Or a girl for that matter._

_Her hair though… it reminded him of Sylvain. Maybe she is from the Gautier line? But he never heard of the boy mentioning he had a cousin. Besides, it was much lighter in color compared to Sylvain's. Orange and bright… sort of like Gustave’s._

_Gustave…_

_Orange_...

_Fire…._

_Burning…_

_Blood…._

_His heart stopped._

_His hand went out to clutch the fabric that was over his chest._

_His heart stopped, or more like, his heart was already stopped._

_He doesn't have a heart to beat for him. A heart to show that he is still alive._

_The battle at the castle. The King. Dimitri. The Captain. The people._

_He gulped._

_He watched them all die. He watched them all get cut down one by one._

_And then… And then…._

_A sword to his heart._

_A cut to his arms._

_A stab to his legs._

_A dark purple essence came out of nowhere._

_He was dead._

_He was dead. He was dead. He was dead_

_He died._

_He died and left the kingdom to rot._

_Annette was out of her shock, done with the breathing exercises when she looked to see that Glenn was a couple of feet away from her, his hand shaking as it clutched over his heart_

_Something was wrong._

_“Glenn,” Annette tried to say but only came out as a small sound. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Glenn.”_

_Glenn did not look up, he couldn’t lookup. What has he done? What had happened?! He was stabbed, killed! He failed them… he failed the royal family! He was guarding Dimitri and he heard him crying (why was he crying?) and he heard the captain's orders to move forward and then fire and another explosion…_

_His breath caught._

_And Felix. His father, Ingrid, Sylvain… what about them? What happened to them!! Did the attack stop there? Did it spread all through the kingdom?! Were others massacred and slaughtered where they stand? Did anyone even survive??!? Why was he here? How how how_ howhowhowhowhowhowhowhow _!!!!!!_

_"Glenn!"_

_His head snapped up, hands instinctively going to his waist to reach for the dagger he always cares. He may be a knight but he will do anything to keep on fighting, even if it means to go the not so noble way of things._

_Expect this time there was no dagger to grab, no sword by his waist, no tombs by his side to cast a quick spell. Nothing._

_Before his mind can wonder why he was empty-handed his eyes meet clear sea-blue eyes. Eyes that were filled with worry and eagerness to help and care._

_He suddenly remembered where he was._

_He was dead, in a girls room, a girl who somehow knows his little brother's name, and was having a mental break down._

_"Glenn," Annette breath, half tempted to try and grab his hand to comfort him but was unsure if she will be able to touch him or her hand will pass through his "Are… are you ok? Do you need me to do something for you?"_

_'Please don't tell me I made a fool out of myself,' she silently begged to the goddess. The situation that she was now it did not fully process in her mind but she wanted to help him, help Glenn. No matter who he was or what he is, there was still that urge to try to help, to lend a hand. Something her father would use to tell her to do._

_‘Not now,’ she blew those haunting thoughts away._

_Glenn said nothing, not moving his eyes from her own. Annette for her credit did not look away, only stared and pleaded an unspoken request to help, not daring to move away from his hard amber gaze._

_They both stayed there, looking at one another, not moving at all. It almost seemed as if time itself had stopped._

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Elsewhere, Sothis moaned in her sleep and turned in her throne.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

_They both would have continued to stare, maybe Glenn would have demanded answers or Annette backing away from the illogic of it all. Who knows? Only the Goddess would have foreseen the results as the sound of footsteps sounded at the end of the hall._

_Both nobel children snapped their heads towards the door._

_It wasn’t till the sound grew louder that the realization that someone was outside the halls sank into each one of their minds. Then panic raised._

_Annette darted towards the candles, the only evidence of light to show that she was still wide awake. Using her magic she cast the fire away, leaving candle stumps for her to clean up. In her panicked state, she forgot that she just put out the fire from the candles, so when she reached to touch them her hands only meet liquid wax. Something the carrot-top was not prepared for._

_“Ouch!”_

_Gleen, who was hovering his hand over the door, debating whether he should see who was on the other side of the halls or not, turned his head at the very loud cry of pain._

_“What are you doing?!” He snapped._

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Annette whispered loudly frantically. Covering her hand to her chest and the other towards the candles with a wind spell, she tried to reason with the knight. “I didn’t realize that the wax was still hot and-”_

_“What do you mean you didn’t know! Are you insane?!”_

_She huffed. “Well excuse me for-”_

_A lot creak was heard from the hall, this time, it sounded like it was only a few doors down._

_Instantly the two shut up. Annette froze, spell dying as she held the breath she got back from her episode a moment ago while Gleen backed away from the door, his boot surprisingly not make a sound on her own wooden floor._

_The sound of footsteps was right in front of her door._

_Then they stopped._

_No one moved._

_While it was only a few seconds, to the teens, it felt like years were being taken away for their lives, Annette growing paler and paler while Glenn only gripped his fist tighter._

_For a second there was a slight hum._

_Nothing happened._

_Then the sound of footsteps walking away echoed through their ears._

_Still, they did not move, not relaxing till they could no longer hear a single sound in the empty hallway._

She was stupid. She had forgotten that staff will always make a daily check over the dorms to see if each student were asleep and not breaking curfew. Unfortunately, she stayed up long enough to always remind herself to flicker her candles out and go to bed minutes before someone comes down the hall. This time, however, with the not-so-well-planned visit from a former noble, a knight at that, made things all the more complicated for her and lost more than a few minutes of her time trying to call herself down. She was just thankful that no one was allowed in the student rooms during night scouting. She would have probably died right then and there and keep Glenn company a lot longer than either of them would have hope.

Vaguely she could hear Glenn’s warning about being late for class but couldn’t make herself get up. Not yet at least.

Snuggling herself into the yellow blanket she was given from joining the Blue Lions house, she stayed limp, hearing the sound of students talking to one another, the footsteps of the late runners, and the cheers from the dining hall as everyone sat down for breakfast.

Annette’s having none of it.

Yet the more she laid there, the same nagging thought that she managed to plant in her head came back to life.

_What are you doing? Laying around and being as useless as ever!_

_A disappointment… if you have time to do nothing then you have time to work!_

_You would never amount to anything! Worthless!_

_Do you really think he’ll be satisfied with only your magic skills? Only a fool will stop there!_

_I have no daughter._

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I’m not useless. I won’t fail you.’

Glenn, who was watching the girl, both out of fear that she was secretly a threat and puzzled over what she wanted from him, felt his skin jumped when she all-of-a-sudden sat up. It was so sudden and sharp that he could hear the sound of wind snapping as she did so, the blanket that was wrapped around flying to the side of the bed.

He didn’t know what made her suddenly change from being asleep (she wasn’t) to wide awake and alert but he wasn’t going to stop her.

That was until she looked at him.

As trained to become a knight from such a young age, he was taught the ways of loyalty and chivalry, swords and lance, horses back and pegasus alike. But those lessons only cover the basic known qualities of a knight. He, on the other hand, is a Fraldarius, a family line of knights that were all given the title of ‘Royal Shield’. And as such, there were more than a few family secrets and traditions that were taught both him and Felix when they were old enough to hold a sword.

Yet there was always one lesson that seemed to back in mind when he saw his summoner turn his way.

_“Father?”_

_“Yes, Glenn?”_

_The five-year-old Glenn tilted his head, eyes not moving away from the main focus. “Did you fight a bandit?”_

_Rodrigue stops his feather quill as he looked at his son with slight bewilderment before looking at what his only son was staring at. Surprising to the little boy, he shivered, which was weird to him. His father rarely shows any sort of fear to anyone one of his injuries or scars, always proudly showing them off and even telling him stories on how he got them. So it was weird for his father to be scared for something he is usually so proud of._

_Rodrigue went a few sheets paler trying to bat away the subject at handoff like it was nothing. “Uh, no I didn’t. There was just an accident with you Mother, Glenn.”_

_“Mother,” Glenn’s ears perked up. To the little boy, as much as he loved his Father no one can compare to his Mother’s warm hugs, soft songs, and fencing skills. She was just the best. But with the thought of his Mother came to light he had a terrible thought. “Wait… did Mother get hurt!? Is she ok? Did you protect her?”_

_Rodrigue gains a bit of color back as he laughed at his son’s panic. It was such a sight to see how his son was practically attached to the hip to their Mother no matter where she goes. “No, no. It was nothing like that. Do not worry Glenn.”_

_The boy relaxed, the panic melted away from his face from the reassurement that his Mother was in fact, not in danger of any sort. Rodrigue had hope that he would have forgotten the bruise on his arm but he also forgot that Glenn was his son for a reason._

_“So how did you get hurt Father? If Mother is ok did you two had a sparring match?”_

_Oh his poor innocent son, the Fraldarius descendant laminated as he recalled the events that led up to this, a cold dead shiver on his back from such thoughts._

_“Yes… you can perhaps say that Glenn. Women are indeed scary, the only danger to your life if I might say.”_

_“Huh? Danger? What do you mean?”_

_The older man sighed. “Just remember this Glenn, woman are uncontrollable and powerful beings. Do not cross one no matter what.”_

_“What?”_

He never did understand the extension to his father's word till he told a visiting noble girl that she looked horrible in all of that jewelry she wore from her visit that one time. It took years to get both noble houses to stop fighting each other over a young boy miss guidance of words. Especially the slap, definitely the slap. And he had thought his Father hit hard, but that was until he was on the receiving end of a woman’s fury.

He made sure to stay far away from any sort of female for quite a while after that. Not Ingrid or his Mother though, it was rather impossible to stay away from those two. He rather not have a crying Ingrid asking why he was ignoring her and a saddened mother as well on top of his list.

Yet that same feeling he had when he saw the hand coming to the side of his face all those years ago was the exact same feeling he was experiencing that exact moment.

Dear Goddess save him.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

As Byleth got the board ready for class in the next few minutes of breakfast time when she heard the sound of sneezing reached her ears.

“Are you alright,” she blinked slowly at the floating girl, knowing that no one was there to witness her speaking to her very childish friend.

“I don’t know,” Sothis mused. “I did sneeze late night as well, perhaps I might be catching one of those mortal illnesses that you seem to always attract.”

“But you're a ghost.”

“I’m not a ghost you fool!”

“Of course.”

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

“There,” Annette breath. “All done.”

It was clean, her room was finally cleaned from last night's little ritual. The last bit of white chalk was no longer between her floorboard or the walls. The small drops of candle wax were wiped away and replaced with only a single sweet peach scented one during her clean up near her desk. All her paper with notes were all separated, every fine detail she ever needed to know about the ritual was written on there. Her wrinkled school clothes were swapped out for a new fresher set, skirt straight and neat, her bag strapped on her stride, and her cuffs all pulled in place.

Humming in satisfaction with her job well done she turned to the only other person who as there to witness her achievement with a smile.

Glenn, on the other hand, was not smiling at all.

“Glenn? Are you ok?"’

Glenn did nothing, only turning away from the girl with his arms naturally crossing in front of his chest. “No.”

Annette blinked. “You don’t look ok.”

He scoffed. “I wonder why.”

It then soon clicked to Annette. “Was it because of how I asked you to get out of my room.”

This time Glenn did look at her, cool sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I never knew asking was changed to have a handful of fire at the ready. Perhaps I’ve been taught wrong in my upbringing.”

“Hey,” Annette’s cheeks flared red as she made her attempt to defend herself. “I was still in shock ok! I don’t know you other then what Dimitri and Ingrid told me! You're a stranger and there was no way I was going to let you stay in the same room with me while I change.”

“You could have _asked_!”

She huffed but gave up on the pity argument, whether or not she or Glenn win, it did not matter. So with that in mind, she turned away from him and rushed over to her desk with the intention of ending this argument.

Glenn though had other plans.

“Hey,” he called out. “How do you know His Highness? Or Ingrid? Felix is one thing but those three? Let me guess, you also know Sylvain too.”

She paused, halfway on closing her bag, confused. Why would she not know those four childhood friends? They were all in her classes and they all train together and even fought alongside each other. Does he not know that-

It was then that she had another 'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' moment.

He doesn't know it's been four years since the Tragedy of Duscar, does he?

Was he not aware? Does he even know Dimitri is alive?

Has he known how long it has been since then?

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

“I’m waiting.”

**NO!**

“I-,” she tried to get out, scrambling in her mind what to say, what to do. How would he feel if he knew how long it been? How much he had missed, the consequences of that day. Would he even understand!? “I-I… it's just…”

Glenn is generally a patient person, not only was natural to him but he was also trained to do so when becoming a knight. But the fact that this girl might know Felix and Dimitri, his fiance Ingrid, hell even Sylvain of all people, then she must know something. She has to.

She just has to.

He has waited all night for this. He can’t wait any longer when his family is at stake.

“Where are they,” he practically hissed. “What happened to them! Why are you not saying anything!”

“I-they…,” Annette tried again, scared from the harsher tone that the knight was using. It suddenly dawned on Annette that Felix might have been just naturally born with a deep cold voice because from the way that Glenn spoke made Annette shiver in fear.

“What are you hiding,” Glenn was now jumping to conclusions. His family, _his family, **his family!**_ “What did you do to them! I swear if you done anything to them I cut you down where yo-”

“It’s been four years!”

Everything froze, time stopped. As if the earth itself knew what was happening and gave them mercy by giving them this final few months before it all ends. The calm before the storm.

A second became years.

The bell ranging from the distance.

“...what?”

The question, even though it was so quiet you can hear a pen drop, Annette had to strain her ears in order to hear what the man had just said.

Yet she was afraid to answer him. Not in fear of herself but in fear for him, what this might do to him.

The question was so small but it held the weight of the world.

“...what did-,” Glenn stopped, licking his lips before continuing. “It’s… four years?”

“Yes,” Annette answers redundantly. While in her mind it was cruel for him to know the truth of what had happened and the long timeframe from it all she also knew it would be far more crueler if she had stayed shut and never told him what had happened. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but…” she took a deep breath. “It's been four years since the Tragedy of Duscar.”

Glenn looked at her like she was crazy (and maybe in a way she was for speaking to a dead gho-uh… spirit) or that she had said that Goddess will be coming into the room any minute now and grant him a parting gift. But then his face changed, it became that to bewilderment, to shock, then nothing, empty. His face held no emotions, no clue on his thoughts or new words that he was going to say. He was just… blank.

Annette was in front of a broken man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn was so many emotions here and it seems like he has no personality with him but he does, just that when someone finds out their a ghost and its been years since their death... well let's say that you will have a few couple of emotional mood swings. Just a few. His real personltiy will come to light very soon throughout the story.
> 
> And poor Annie too, she just signed herself a contract that will tarnish a bit (lot) of her (love) life.
> 
> Maye the goddess save your soul. May Sothis find pity. I'm sorry sweet child.


	3. To start a new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late to class entry, a past memory of two brothers, a group of two differnt friends, and a new resoulution in the making.
> 
> Oh and Sothis is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are set around in the Garland Moon, the month in which we fight Lonato.
> 
> The green room that Sothis is mentioned in is the room you see yourself in when you speak with Sothis for the Paralogues Tales of the Red Canyon when you talk to Sothis in this green room of sorts. I’m going to say that that is the room in which Sothis sleeps in when they are with Byleth because the only time we see Sothis on the throne is when they are in the void or in a dream. So I'm just going to make that green room the room Sothis hangs out in when she is not manifested in the real world with Byleth and a room in which Byleth speaks with Sothis in when she is not conscious. (Like when she is sleeping.)

It was quiet, no one was out in the open and was now in their respective places. But Annette wasn’t. The payment made a clap sound every time her boots hit the ground, an eerie sound that made her want to stop and wait till the bell rings again so she wouldn't have to hear her own footsteps. Afraid of the Professor to find her out there, for Sethe to come up and report her, a ghost to come and scare her.

Which was ridiculous since the ghost (spirit?) next to her was just as scary.

Except he was quiet, no sound that indicated he left or stayed near her. The only way she could tell was to look behind her every so often to see Glenn sort of glide step towards her. It was strange to see him walk. His feet refused to touch the ground but his boots were hitting something as they moved on. Yet at the same time they glide, like how children would skate across the frozen lakes in the wintertime when the ice was thick enough. So to her mind, it was like skating on ice. It helps to not to question why or how but to only give simple names to the actions he did. She didn’t need a repeat of what happened before.

She almost winched, it wouldn’t do her any good if Glenn questioned her own actions as well. But then again, he hadn't said anything at all since they left her room.

After she screamed at him what had happened, she shut up. He stayed silent, non-moving, non-existent. He only looked at her and followed her, no question asked, no comments said.

It made her think how human he was at the beginning of their meeting, now it just seemed like he is actually a ghost.

She wanted him to tell her a snarky comment or give her a glare or give his bluntly honest opinions again. Anything to stop his soldier walk right behind her.

But she couldn’t ask him to do that. Not after what she said. If anything he needed this silence. So she only continued to walk to her class, late as it was already ten minutes in.

But for the first time in forever, she didn't mind if she was late. Heck, she wouldn’t mind not going to class at all.

But if she did that then the voices will come again, and she can’t hear them right now. She can’t have them right now. She has to keep her mind occupied, for the time being, anything but how she surely must have messed up.

So the halls echoed the sound of footsteps, one solid and one faint as they both walk up to the classrooms, each of their banners respectfully in front of each other. She stopped at the one with blue.

She stood there, not knowing what to do.

It wasn’t until a few more moments passed before she heard a sigh coming from behind her. Without a word, Glenn took hold of her wrist and used her shock state to knock the door with her hand.

It wasn’t till he dropped her hand did she turn to him, peeved. “Glenn,” she shapely whispered, still not used to the quiet of the halls. “Why did you do tha-”

Before she could finish what she was about to say the door opened.

“Ah, Annette. There you are, we were all wondering what had happened to you to make you so late.”

Annette froze, Glenn gasp.

Hand still holding the door open, Dimitri was smiling at them.

‘Of all the people to come to open the door,’ she thought. ‘It had to be His Highness!’

Dimitri paused, brows sewed in the middle as he gave her a once over. “Are you alright Annette? You do look rather pale today.”

Swallowing thickly, aware of the person behind her she replied back. “Oh no, I'm fine. Honest! I just overslept your Highness. Sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“No it's alright Annette,” the prince flustered over, trying his hardest not to make it seem like Annette wasn’t the problem at all. “I’m sorry if I may have overstepped some boundaries. Please accept my apologies.”

Now there was something that Annette will never let go. If she had made a mistake or caused a problem that she was responsible with then she will make sure that she is the one to apologize first and last. With the fact that His Highness was saying sorry for being concerned over her only set off one of her natural instincts that she refuses to let go.

“No, I’m sorry.” Annette started. “You were just worried and it was my fault to lead to-”

“No, I insist.” Dimitri cut in. “It was my fault that-”

“No please I’m-”

“I’m sorry it was-”

“Would you two stop yapping and sit already!”

It was like the goddess was sending her a message from above. The person that snapped, the only person that dares to snap at the prince, had his arms crossed over his chest. His natural place on the frown was in place with a glare aimed not at Annette but to Dimitri of all people. Strands of hair that were loose from his bun from his morning practices were covering his amber eyes, yet they did not lessen their effects.

To both of the newcomers, they both had the same thought as they each gazed into those hard steel eyes.

‘Felix.’

Annette flinched a bit. The irony of the situation was too much at the moment. Yes, she had known that they would have to encounter the topic of discussion soon enough but she had hoped that she would be able to avoid him just a little longer. It was not only for his brother's sake but also for her own. It was hard to talk to the swordsman before but now it would feel downright impossible to even be in the same room as him. But she couldn’t avoid it nor him.

Glenn, on the other hand, was cold. While he may live in the most Northern parts of Fodland, he never felt a freeze such as this one. It was like seeing a memory in the past. As soon as his amber eyes met a matching pair identical to his, he saw snow and tears.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

“Glenn! Glenn!”

Pausing mid swipe of his sword, Glenn looked behind him. Sweat was still dripping from his face, some going under his shirt or was heavily weighing down his hair. As soon as he did a pair of small hands wrap around his waist to give him a hug.

Despite his training being interrupted, Glenn smiled.

“Glenn! Glenn!”

Laughing at his younger brother's cries of his name, the nine-year old ruffled his brother's growing blue hair. While Glenn and his Father had already grown their hair to shoulder length, Felix was only barely able to make a small ponytail. Most of his hair was set loose from the hairband and was flying all over the place, compared to Glenn, who had his in a single braid.

Seeing this, Gleen reached over behind his three-year old brother's head and pulled on the band. His hair fell all over his face. He tried to muffle his giggles when he could barely see his younger eyes and the ‘o’ shape his mouth formed in surprise.

“Glenn!”

“Sorry Felix,” Glen laughed at his brother's misfortune that he caused, no longer able to hold it in. Reaching to grab a hold of his tiny hand he pulled towards the benches. “Come on, I’ll fix it for you if you want.”

The frowned that graced little Felix’s face turned upright from his brother's words. With an ‘Ok!’, he let Glenn lead him to the bench and sat down near the left side. Swinging his legs, he waited patiently for his bigger brother to sit next to him. Following his brother's silent command to turn away, he felt gentle fingers run through his hair as they weave and braid.

With the silence growing heavy, Glenn hummed.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

“-rry Professor! It won’t happen again.”

Glenn snapped back to reality, quickly taking in his surroundings from the sound of the girl's voice once more. After a quick scan of the shadows of the room, he looked at the source of the voice.

Alarm bells ranged above his head.

The Professor, a woman with a darker shade of blue, stood there. No emotions were betrayed by the woman as she all but started at the summoner. She stood tall over the girl, almost looming at the petite woman that should make anyone imitated from a glace. A warrior that stood out from the rest.

Glenn narrowed his eyes at the woman, open about his hostility towards her.

But for some reason, it did not faze Annette. The emotionless husk before them.

She looked hopeful, apologies, admiration. The opposite in which she should feel.

One thing is for sure, he would keep an eye out for her.

He doesn't trust this woman, whoever she is.

(Green hair?)

(Woman)

(Si-)

“As long as it doesn't happen again,” the Professor gestured at an empty seat next to a girl with pale brown hair. “Take a seat and catch up on today's lesson.”

With a hop, skip, and a jump, the redhead sat down.

And his mind whirled again.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

She was embarrassed, beyond humiliated. It was one thing to stumble over her words in front of His Highness but it was another to do the same in front of the whole class. And to the Professor no less!

She wants to disappear and never come back again.

“Annie, are you alright?”

Looking away from the blank notebook that she stared at for the past couple of minutes, she met the eyes of her more concerned best friend. It took her a minute, probably a few seconds, before it was then that she realized that she did nothing but stared into the void.

She was falling apart, slowly but surely.

“Huh?”

“You don’t look so good,” she pressed a hand over her forehead. “Are you sure you're ok? You did look a little pale yesterday as well.”

‘No,’ she wanted to say, her first reaction. ‘I don’t feel fine. I can’t deal with this all. I can’t keep this to myself! I think I have a spirit following, and guess what? He’s Felix’s brother! How am I to face him now! Sylvain? Ingrid? His Highness? What would you think, if the story you told came true Mercie?’

Instead, she smiled politely, sweet and short. “I’m fine Mercie. I just slept a little later than I had planned too. I’m just a little tired, that's all.”

The older woman frowned but did not press any further. She knew all about how the redhead would stay up studying all the time, despises the many times she tries to stop that habit. Perhaps that's why she didn't push on and sighed. “Alright, but if you feel dizzy in any way go to the Infirmary. I don’t want you to push yourself any further than you should.”

“I promise I will.”

She thought she was done but was proven wrong. Mercie gave her a sweet motherly smile before whispering near her ear. “How about after class we can go have tea by the gardens? I will even make your favorite blend.”

At this she winched. Annette was conflicted a bit. As much as she wanted to spend time with her best friend she didn’t feel like she could continue on throughout the day with everything that had happened. It was an emotional pegasus ride that she was on and she was pushing herself to make sure it doesn't show.

But from the reactions she had today, she was a pretty bad actor.

Her mind was reeling itself to make up excuses after excuses. I have to study with Lycinatha. I want to find Father today. I have garden duty today. Ashe and I were supposed to help each other with strategies today to save Lonato.

So many choices, so many reasons to decline.

“Of course! Let's meet later this afternoon.”

So many reasons but only one thing outweighs them all.

The one fact that Mercie’s concern for her is too big to ignore. If she were to say no, then her best friend would probably drag her back to her room and make sure that she sleeps in for the rest of the day. No manner of excuses will ever get her out of that mess.

And she can’t have that, she can’t. There was only one thing that was keeping her up with this playful mask of hers.

At the corner of her eye, she could see the former knight leaning against the wall near the end of the room. Eyes darting back and forth between five people in the room. His Highness, a relaxed Sylvain, a focused Ingrid, the busy Professor, and the boy that was similar in features and personality.

She quickly turned away when Glenn caught her eye.

He has been like this since they entered the room. Quiet, cold, distant. They may not have been friends, no more than acquaintances, but he had at least tried to talk to her. Perhaps if she had never said anything…

'Then he would have been devastated beyond repair.'

Breathing through her nose, she reached down to ready her quill on her hand before dipping it in ink.

She shouldn’t think about this, not at the moment.

She has a class to finish.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

The sound of the bells chiming sounded throughout the Monastery. Not one second later, the new sound of doors slamming open was quickly overshadowed by the pounding of footsteps and excited chatter.

But for the second time that day, Annette ignored its sounds, focusing solely on her notes as she continued to scribble them down. She may have gotten to class late but she will make sure that she had everything written down from that lesson she missed.

She was still scratching on the journal she bought from the market when she heard her name being called from behind. Reluctivity she turned around to see a girl that was almost as equaled to her own height disadvantaged.

Lysithea was standing there, books in her arms that were thick with hundreds of pages, giving her a look with her eyebrows raised.

Annette had to hold back her sigh, knowing what the girl's next words would be.

“Annette,” the petite girl started. “Please do not tell me you pulled an all-nighter with that book I lend you? Or was it because of the… topic it was covered on?”

Ashe, who was on his way out, heard what the girl said. “Do you mean the story that Mercedes was telling us about? I-I have to admit," rose tinted his cheeks, spots of freckles seem like stars. "It was pretty hard trying to sleep at all last night. I can understand why you might have come late today Annette." Bashfully he scratched the back of his neck. “I’d admit, I hardly got any sleep that night myself.”

Despite getting the answer to her tardiness wrong, Annette was grateful that he was helping her out of explaining. Placing a small shaking smile she dropped her head in a minor defeat. “Yes… I didn’t realize how late it was until the moon was already overhead.”

Ashe patted her on the back, a small comfort for her troubles while Lysithea just sighed. “As long as that's the case, I do expect my book back by sunset you know.”

“Yes,” Annette answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it back to you in no time!”

“Alright. I’ll be at the library if you need me.”

“Yup! Bye Lysithea!”

She gave her a wave as the white hair girl left, having at least one person off her back as she still needs to get rid of Ashe.

Now how to do that…

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Felix swiped at the target, feet darting back as soon as he saw his blade made contact with the wood with red paint on it.

A second passed before the target fell, half of it cut through where his blade once was.

His eyes narrowed.

It was not a clean-cut, the wood only slightly on hinged as a thin layer still stubbornly stayed attached to his other half.

He grunted in frustration.

It wasn’t enough, his training wasn’t enough. If he was to survive in such a twisted unruly world like this one then he must make sure that every swing of his blade meets its end. If one does not kill on the first hit then that just gives their appoint another chance to kill them as well.

Setting his eyes on another target, he quickly made another swipe of his practice blade.

Or… at least he was.

At the same time he moved to end the target, the door of the training room slammed open with a yelp and a grunt of pain following close behind.

He surpassed the urge to throw his sword behind him. Felix count only imagine what the idiot got himself into this time.

“Come on Ingrid! I was just asking her if she wanted some- ah!”

“You know Sylvain. I do wonder when you will ever stop these little acts of yours. Surely you have something better to do?”

“But she was just so gor-Ah! Ok ok! Easy on the ear.”

Ingrid sighed but refused to let go of her pleading friend till she was right next to the benches. Letting go, she made her way over to the rack of the training equipment with the attention of polishing her sword work. Sylvain, now out of the grasp of their friend, made his way to Felix, easy-going smile as he rubbed his ear.

“Hey, Felix. Getting some training I see.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at the older man. “Go away.”

“Ouch,” Sylvain snickered. “You wound me, truly.”

“What do you want?”

“Now now Felix,” Sylvain started. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Ingrid emerged from the rack with a wooden sword, the weight compatible for her to handle. “I’m surprised how Felix hasn’t thrown you out yet.”

“Hey!”

With a grunt he turned around, it was wasteful to talk with those two if all there were there to talk about was Sylvain's skirt-chasing. Tuning out of the conversation, he made another hit and a swipe, hitting his targets one by one.

He was just getting to the rhythm of it when he heard a “Right Felix.”

Now annoyed he turned shapely. “Whatever it is, I won’t agree to-”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Sylvain had his hands in front of him. “It's nothing like that. I was just saying that Annette was acting odd today.”

Now, this got Felix’s attention.

Not that it stopped him from training, his eyes looking straight ahead.

“Well now that you mentioned it,” Ingrid lowered the sword that was pointed straight at Sylvain. “She did seem to be a little off today…”

“Right,” Sylvain quickly catching on to the conversation to his escape. “I mean, you usually see her all bright and sunshine but she was all… how do I put it? Drained.”

Felix thought back. Now that he did mention it, she was pretty slow today. He didn’t hear her make any quite chatter with Mercedes in class at all that day. Sometimes it gets to the point in which the Professor will ask them to stay silent. But it was unusually quiet that day, so unusual that he ended up looking back to check if she was still there.

She was barely paying attention, her quill hovering over the payment, ink bottle closed and eyes glazed over. Sometimes when she would not be staring into the void and he would catch her staring at the back of the class. Where no one was sitting.

Was she perhaps waiting for someone?

His grip on his sword flattened.

Sylvain must have seen the way he paused as he smiled triumph. “See, even Felix thinks so.”

Ingrid made a roll of her eyes but it did not dismiss the worry in them. “Only you would pay attention to such detail.” Ignoring the action of the redhead placing a hand over her heart she continued on. “But what do you supposed happened? Last I saw her was when she was heading to her room. I haven’t seen her since then.”

Sylvain raised his eyebrow. “Did I just hear are little Ingrid s-”

“Don’t you even finish that sentence.”

He simply waved his hands.

Ingrid sighed.

“Do you think she was sick, or perhaps she sneaked up to the library again?”

“Who knows," the skirt chaser shrugged. "But we sure aren’t going to know standing around here are we,” Sylvain crossed his arms with a smirk.

Felix had the sinking feeling that his daily training will be cut short very soon.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

With her left hand speeding through the pages, faster and faster as her eyes try to make sense of all the words written on the yellow wrinkled paper, leaving her right hand to scribble every syllable that she deemed worthy to memorize later on.

The only one to witness this was currently standing near the doorway, still and passive. A former knight doing what he was trained to do, standing guard and not making a sound.

Glenn looked at the girl, conflicted.

In less than 24 hours of daylight, he was summoned from the dead, awakened years into the future, and saw the faces of those he called family. No longer kids but a young woman and men.

It was surreal, daunting and just laughable. Who knew things would end up this way?

And he certainly did not know he was going to die that day.

Swallowing nothing but the air around him, he closed his eye in an attempt to process it all through.

First thing first, he is a ghost, or in the girl's words, a wandering spirit. He doesn't know all the details since he blanked her out when she tried to tell him last night but he does know that he is for sure dead. Died in the Tragedy of Duscur.

Second thing was the tragedy, he doesn’t know what the Tragedy of Duscur is other than that it was what the attack on the castle was called. But the name itself does not make sense. Duscer? While there were some Duser people killing that day most others were visibly from the Empire. Some from the Alliance and even from the Kingdom. Traitors to their King.

He growled at that thought. Thankfully Annette did not hear him.

The third was the fact that it's been years since his death. Four years. Four years since anyone had seen him train, dot on his little brother, sit in the company of his Fiance, joke around with a redhead and watch after His Highness. It bothered him to no end that the world moved on while he was still stuck in the past.

And lastly, his family.

He bit the inside of his cheek till he felt like he could taste copper.

Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, and His Highness. They were no longer kids. They were no longer the little children that he watched and taught as they grew. His Highness was no longer that sweet little boy with that long hairstyle and reddening cheeks. Ingrid was no longer the tomboy who had scratches all over her skin and would sneak to find some food. Sylvain was no longer a quiet child with the wounds that his older brother inflicted. Felix was no longer his cute brother that would cry all the time and follow him like a little duckling.

No, they are all grown men and women. They changed so much yet are still the same. Ingrid was clean and punctual but still so strong. Dimitri has a dark shadow following him around while he still smiles so brightly. Sylvain no longer had bandages or dark circles under his eyes but still flirted. Felix was… he’s different. Truly changed. Except he is still familiar.

It took him a while of him just staring at the back of his brother's head but it clicked soon after.

He was acting just like him.

And somehow it hurts more than it should.

He snapped and scold. Distanced from the rest, calling His Highness names and ignoring all contact as much as possible. Anger was permanently on his face, sharp-edged and taunting words.

He wondered if it was him that triggered this change. His cute little baby brother was a crybaby, a follower who would play tricks and chatter with anyone he could get his sights on. But the Felix in front of him was a whole different person.

Slightly he scoffed.

Wondering, thinking, guessing. He's been doing that all day hasn't he. He never did get answers, and he never did get the full story. It was only snips and pieces of it. He only got snips and pieces.

Pieces to make a whole.

He snapped his eyes open, a fire of daunting determination now rising from the flames that have awakened.

His mind was made up.

He will find out what happened that day, what made his little brother this was. He will undo all the damage his death had caused and heal his family. For all the time he let them bear their wounds, he will make sure he will heal them. As a knight, he knows he can not erase the scars. But he can mend them as best as he can.

His only hope is that if they allow themselves to be healed by the little girl that will put the actions of his efforts to use.

Annette flipped another page, unaware of her newly titled role. That one night in the academy was the start of a whole new history.

May the Goddess seek your redemption oh tragic one.

May the Goddess seek your redemption.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Green eyes open silently, unbothered or unnerved. Stretching her hands to the green ceiling that glowed she yawned a sound that echoed and traveled before it settled into silents.

Silents.

Humming, Sothis drummed her fingers on her throne, a little pitter-patter.

Then that too stopped.

“Interesting,” Sothis eyed something from afar, passing through the walls of her imaginative room that she called her resting place. “It seems like something has changed in this place. An aura that stands out from the rest yet it still managed to hide from my presence. I wonder… this air of passing that hangs seems familiar to me… perhaps...“

She stopped. “No… it can’t possibly be. I surely must be mistaken. Yawwwwwnnn~ Maybe I should…. Take a rest… just for a bit…just a….. Zzzzzz”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I only foreshadow but never spoke of bluntly: Does the summoning has an effect on Annette? What were the conditions after a spirt is summoned? What are the effects on Glenn?
> 
> Think about that.


	4. Another day...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bump in the road with three friends, a spirit point of view, and the day before the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I had a hard time trying to get the interaction with Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix with Annette playing in my head and I had nothing to write when I tried to do so. But after two weeks I just gave up and made a little skim of it. I do not want to try and do that again. But there's that. 
> 
> I hope everyone is safe and well during this time.

Annette was called many things.

Clumsy.

Hard-working.

Helpful.

Overachiever.

Cute.

(Though she doesn't agree with the last one no matter how many times Mercie tells her so.)

All those titles and she was never called observant. Sure she had to train to have a sharp eye, else to hit her enemies with signature blades of wind in battle of course. But she was not that far sighted as Cyril or Claude for that matter. Archers usually have better eyesight than mages for far distance attacks, having to spot those in the shadows versus those that just hit the enemy soldier in the front lines.

But she could tell something, many things, were... off at that moment.

“Hey! There you are, Annette!”

Sylvain going up to her was not necessarily different, even with both Felix and Ingrid trailing behind him. It's normal. A sight of their early friendship. Except, this time Ingrid is not glancing at Sylvain wearily when he calls out to her, a different sort of shine in her gaze. Or how Felix had his eyes looking anywhere but straight ahead, his arms crossed over his chest with the fabric of his sleeves tightly stretched to where his hands were gripping tightly.

Ingrid, not babbling to Sylvain to stop his battering. Silent. Calm.

Felix, out walking by his friends instead of training in the training room. Willingly. Distracted.

She did a double-take.

Perhaps she does need to go to the infirmary.

“You should.”

Annette bit back a yelp, her body flinched from the voice beside her. Not trying to give herself away she side glanced at the man beside her, a few feet put between them.

Glenn was not looking at her, sharp gaze looking at the three housemates coming towards her.

She silently bit a corner of her lips.

It wasn’t that she forgot about Glenn, how could she? The whole reason she felt so tired was because of him, not just his summoning but his outburst, his silence, his presents always next to her. It's just that ever since that morning he's been more cautious, silent. So she gave him space, trying not to catch his eyes.

Somehow it was far easier than she had originally thought.

It’s strange yet not? His presents beside her, following behind her just felt like her own magic trailing behind her, yet was mixed with something else, another type of magic. She hardly noticed before, too hyper-aware of the spirit that she summoned instead of sensing to see if he had any magical trace, but now that she tried to shut him out it was like he was never truly there.

Mages all have a sense of magic in them, a type of unique magic that makes up their own, an imprint of sorts. It's not common knowledge but it isn't rare to sense one's imprint. Amateur mages can’t sense their imprint, still too young to realize their own for that matter. Modern mages are not as lucky, most still don’t know what's an imprint, barely learning their own sense of magic that they call their own. Only those with talent or been studying for years could possibly know about such knowledge. But proper mage’s, high-class mage’s, know such sense. Not only can they sense their own but others as well, a favorable six sense when in battle.

Annette knew for sure her own imprint, already learning her way to sense others as well. Lysithea was a no brainer, given how hardworking that girl was, added with her natural talent, both able to sense her own magic signal and others as well. Mercie and Marianne don't seem to be aware but both healers will get there in due time. Dorothea seemed aware of such fact, yet not able to feel her own. Hubert and Linhardt could tell right away, both their own and everyone around them as well.

Which brings her back to her point.

Perhaps from the use of her own magic during the summoning is what keeps him here, alive to her eyes yet dead to everyone else. Perhaps she had left her imprint when summoning and now it is what's keeping Glenn alive. But if that was so then would that mean her imprint of magic was constantly feeding on her own magic or was it like a detachment from her, a seal instead of a spell?

“You’re thinking too hard.”

She pounded to herself, taking the reply as a small insult of sorts to her-

Her mind halts.

Wait… he could hear her?

“Obviously.”

She opened her mouth, to say something, anything! She had no time, no warning about the way her mind short circuits itself when another voice called out.

“Good afternoon Annette,” Ingrid greeted as soon as the trio was close enough.

She squeaked, a fist covering over her mouth to stop the sound from growing any louder. She could feel the tip of her ears turning red.

“Uh… G-Good afternoon,” she squeaked again. She coughed, willing her voice to return to its normal volume before trying to fix her mistake. “I mean, good afternoon!”

Embarrassment still lingered through and she turned her gaze to Ingrid’s sea blue eyes. She refused to see the judgment that either of the boys were pressing on to her.

Glenn raised his eyebrow at her, indicating her thoughts were ridiculous but didn’t bother saying anything. It seems that his attempt to butter up the petite girl in order to ask his request wasn’t showing any kind of progress. Scaring her now would only make things even more difficult. Plus, both of their first impressions from each of them went horribly wrong.

Sylvain took in her greeting - a nod and a smile- and was about to say something when Ingrid cut in before he could say anything. “That's good to hear. Say, are you heading anywhere in particular?”

Annette is not known to be observant, but it was clear as day as to what she was doing.

She did not need the whole class watching her.

“Me? Well, I was heading to the gardens to have tea with Mercie right now,” she answered, trying her best to find a way to escape. “She said that she wanted to talk with me about something.”

It's not a lie, when they have tea, the two best friends routinely chat. Usually, it will start with the tea flavor, then to how they've been or how their day was, and from there it could go anywhere. Their talks are something she cherishes she must admit, on a good day they giggle about the new projects they could work on or a cute boy that Annette saw walking by. It's normal for them to walk to the market and buy as many trinks as they can, make-up that they plan to one day get Ingrid to wear, or find new sweets they were eyeing after tea.

On bad days she would babble about her problems, having Mercie there to hold her hand gently and pat her head softly when she saw she was close to tears. Mercie rarely does talk about her own problems, the woman hardly frowns that often after all. Still, being unable to frown doesn’t mean you don’t have a bad day either. If she stays silent enough she would hear stories of her younger brother, Emile and how much she wished she could save him when she and her mother left. She doesn’t openly cry, Annette would, but she would have that sad heavy look in her eyes when she does and all she could do was give empty promises that one day they could find him.

Now that she thought about it, maybe that's why Mercie invited her to tea.

She didn’t notice the side glance from the spirit, listening to every word.

“That's great,” Ingrid smiled politely, something that every noble child is taught. “Some fresh air always helps me refresh after such a long day. There’s nothing like riding with a clear sky overhead. Perhaps you would like to join me when you finish tea?”

Glenn twitched.

“Uh, no that's fine,” Annette turned down the offer. Both the thought of being on a horse and kept an eye on was not appealing in the slightest. It's not that she was scared of the big creatures, just that it reminds her too much of the person she used to ride them with.

She needs to find a way out, and fast!

“Aww come on Annette,” Sylvain winned. “It would be fun! I could even let you ride with me if you want. You know, to hold onto me just in case,” he winked. His usual foreplay.

He only had so much time before a hand smacked him on the back of his head.

Annette blinked, Glenn jumped, Felix hid his amusement, and Sylvain slightly winched.

“Sylvain,” Ingrid frowned at her older friend, a scowl on her lips. “Please refrain yourself from spouting nonsense to our classmates.”

“But Ingrid,” Sylvain winned, dragging the last letter of her name with an expression of a kicked puppy. “I was just suggested that Annette could ride with me. You know, just in case she is to scared to-”

Ingrid’s hand came up again, making Sylvain pause as he waited for the knight-in-training to do the finishing blow when another set of footsteps announced someone else's arrival.

“Annie? Oh Annie, there you are! I’ve been looking for you all over now.”

The Goddess, Annette concluded, must have a funny sense of humor.

All four students (and one ghost) turned to see Mercedes speed walking her way towards the group. Without another thought, she moved to hold one of Annette’s hands and squeak it gently.

“Annie. I’ve finally found you. You have no idea how worried I was when you didn’t come any sooner.”

Now she felt bad.

“I’m so sorry Mercie,” Annette apologized. “I was caught up in my room and I was about to come when I ran into-uh”

“It's alright,” Mercedes claimed. “I was just worried that you took so long to come. Maybe I should have waited a little longer.”

“No!” She exclaimed. “It was my fault. I probably should have gotten to you sooner. We can go right now if you want?”

“Oh of course,” the older woman clapped her hands. “Well come now, I even brought some delicious sweets from the kitchen this time.”

Letting go of her right hand, Mercedes slipped her hand to Annette's left wrist and gently pulled her to walk their way to the gardens. She only got a few steps in when Mercedes turned around with a small wave. “Thank you for finding Annie for me, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay any longer. Have a good day.”

And with that Annette was again pulled towards the gardens for the girl’s afternoon tea.

Annette could feel three pairs of eyes staring at them, all from the three friends she just left behind. Briefly, she could feel the presence of her magic following her and made the mistake of turning around.

Amber eyes met teal.

It took her a second, maybe two, but it was a little too late to realize the person she was staring at wasn’t Glenn.

She turned her head forward with a snap and put an extra step in her walk to move fast away from those glowing amber eyes.

No one saw the red on the tip of her ears.

No one but another set of matching dull amber eyes.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Glenn had a hard time keeping calm.

There they were. His family, the people that he loves. The friends his family made, his treasures he swore to protect. Most of them, there, in front of him. In arms reach.

Yet he knew that from their eyes that they couldn’t see him. So it was impossible for them to react to anything such as touch. Or a hug. Or his cries. Or his apology and pleads. Or him for that matter.

He looked away before turning back.

They were all looking at the two girls, Annette and another one that his summoner calls ‘Mercie’.

If that was her real name.

He recalled that this was the same girl that Annette sat next to in class, the one who asked her if she was alright.

Her eyes were on Annette. Everyone was staring at her.

And still not even one of them glanced his way.

He was forced to bury his disappointment deep, deep down.

It doesn't matter if he used the whole time they were in class to stare at them but he couldn’t help but size them up again. They were older, probably stronger, maybe even more mature. But it doesn't matter to him, all he saw was three little kids he used to play in the snow.

He saw a strain of hair over his little (not little, no longer his cry baby of a-) brother’s eye and was moving his hand to push it back when he stopped. He pulled back.

It seems even now Felix couldn’t always control his hair.

He probably would have been there, slightly floating in front of his brother’s body when he felt a tug in his chest, a tug he was growing familiar with.

He tuning to see Annette and ‘Mercie’ walking away, Annette seeming to be dragged more than followed.

And as always when he felt the tug, he followed. It's not by choice mind you, but every time there seems to be a distance between them he felt… strange. Not a bad sort of strange, not yet at least, but it left an odd feeling behind. Something heavy, foreboding, lost. Whatever it was, he was not ready to test the ice and see how thin the line was by feeling safe and experiencing these unusual emotions.

So he walked, his feet hardly touching the ground but also not flying above it, and tailed after the redhead.

He was startled when she turned back.

At first, he thought he did something, like if she had felt the same tug as he did or that he did something wrong without knowing. Usually, he wouldn’t mind this, ignore those who saw flaws in him. But that was when he was alive, and independent, without ties to anyone but His Highness and His Magissys. Now he was dead, unnoticed, and his only connection to the living was a girl who didn’t even know why she summoned him in the first place. His only way of getting to the four friends. His family.

Yet her eyes were not looking at him but behind. He followed her eyes, trying to see where her line of sight was pointing at.

Ingrid was burning Sylvain, anger was visible on her face as the man held his hands in front of him. Like that was going to protect him from the blonde’s sharp words, and tried to calm her down with excuses of all sorts to get him out of that mess.

Felix, with his arms now more relaxed, was glancing over at Annette, his gaze held steady.

Annette tore her eyes first before Felix did the same.

Maybe he would have ignored it, see it as a comrade pass, one in which soldiers would usually send each other glances at the halls and continue on with their day. A sign or recondition to one another, proving that they each extinct.

But he saw.

Her ears were red.

She was blushing.

And Glenn wanted to see what exactly happens next.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

It’s been days now, and only so much has happened. No one was asking to see if she was alright anymore, after a few days of getting a bit more rest and trying to study all the writing she did from the book she had borrowed (Lycinthea gave it to Thomas thankfully without knowing she took it) she was finally off the radar of her classmates trying to see what was wrong.

Edelgard was given some roses from the Professor for her birthday, with the Imperial princess thanking her properly for the gift. His Highness acted strangely when the Professor did the kind gesture but waved it off.

Ashe had become sadder and glum by the minute. His smile was no longer in present and he was spending more time in the Church, seated in the far back as he stared at nothing but the light from the window memorial. Everyone tried to cheer him up, keeping him busy with gifts and invitations to do something around the Monastery. It worked, but only for a bit. They never got far before Ashe became sad once again. It was depressing and heartbreaking.

Glenn was also quiet, and as she learned, it was a second bounding nature to him. He didn’t bother her or try to talk to her that much, only keeping a short distance between them and rarely commenting on things she had thought up or when she spoke out loud. He didn’t glare or judge her but she could always feel him watching her.

But she was fine with that. For now at least. They have yet to talk about their bond that they have and she plans to do it soon. But not now.

It was Sunday morning when she was awoken by a knock on her door, and a voice that sounded familiar to Dedue’s apologizing and saying to wake up for tomorrow's mission.

Her guts squeaked with uncertainty.

Here they go, off to another mission. One that was required to kill. One that meant that they have to kill Ashe’s people and his father.

It was sicking, vile even. Sure at the mission, they were sent to Zanado she killed, her first time killing in fact. She could still remember the blood on her hands and the way she slashed her axe in self-defense only to see her opponent on the ground. Chest open with red covering the open gash. The bandits' terrified face, his raspy breath, then nothing. He was dead in a second, a life that he lived for many years was gone just like that.

She was scared, almost letting go of her axe in panic and fear when Dimitri came and blocked an arrow from piercing through her flesh. She only forced herself to focus back again on the battlefield with Dedue who came and snapped her out of it.

She killed two more thieves, injuring plenty more. It was the Professor who killed the leader. She was grateful for that.

The walk back to the Monastery was quiet, no one said a word. But they all comfort each other. Dedue had a hand on Ashe’s shoulder while both Sylvain and Ingrid walked with Mercedes. Dimitri and Felix didn’t stay close to anyone, each of them wanting to be by themselves. It was the Professor who came and let Annette hold her hand, she didn’t do anything but she let Annette hold onto her till they got to the dorms.

Annette sneaked into Mercie’s room that night. She didn’t want to face her nightmares alone that night.

It got easier, the thought of her killing someone and the acceptance that she did. They were thieves, people that burned a village and robbed from them. They were the group that wanted to kill the three house leaders and were going to kill them too. She tried to convince herself that, but it won’t disappear. It never disappears.

And now she has to go kill once again. She has to kill Ashe’s people.

She was going to be sick.

“You have a right to be.”

Too used to surprise comments from the spirit every now and then, Annette flinched a bit but continued on her small travel pack. She had to get this done after all.

A sigh came from behind her.

She ignored it, closing up her bag when a hand covered her own.

She stopped.

“Stopped that. Listen to me.”

No longer having a choice in the matter she turned around to look at the person that demanded her attention.

Glenn frowned, a stern look crossed his face. It was still dark out, meaning the only source of light Annette had in the room was a single candlestick that illuminates the ghostly face of his with a deep yellow. This in turn, not only made his semi-transparent body tint in yellow but his amber eyes she grew used to watching her were practically glowing.

It was both beautiful and terrifying. Like a cat in the night, elegant and graceful, mysterious and daunting.

It took all of her willpower not to look away.

He held her gaze for a second before concluding she won’t turn away. “You killed before, correct?”

She winched from his words that cut through her memories but she nodded.

His eyes narrowed, some part of it made her think she was accused of something. The tone that he used sent a shiver through her spine. “Do you want to kill again?”

Annette had no idea what he was getting at but this time she spoke a bit aggressive. “Wha-No! I-I-I don’t! I never-” She cut herself off, looking down in shame.

She just admitted that she didn’t want to kill. She didn’t want to kill those thieves or anyone for that matter. To a knight like Glenn, he probably thought of her as weak, too soft-hearted, to outspoken.

Maybe she was-

“Good.”

The beginning of her mental muttering stopped when they heard the spirit voice, but her mind halted completely when they processed what he said.

_‘Good.’_

“Wha?”

“I said that was good,” Glenn sighed - he sighed! - before letting go of her. “If you were to say that you truly wanted to kill someone then I would have cut you right there and then.”

Annette blinked.

She doesn't understand.

“What is there to understand?”

She squeaked when she got caught. She forgot he could hear her thoughts.

He sighed again, scratching the back of his head as he looked up at the ceiling. He muttered something under his breath before he looked back at her.

“As a knight I guard. I’m not expected to kill but if push comes to shove then that's what I have to do. All knights are given that order. Our top priority is to protect the crown, not soil it with blood.”

Annette stayed silent, for one this was the first time he ever spoke more than one sentence. Another was that she wanted to know where he was going with this.

“Some of us are sent to deal with bandits that get too close or when a rebellion occurs. But that's the mercenary's work, not many knights are sent to battle if the King can prevent it. We’re not meant to battle as much as we protect. I’ve only seen battle a few times when I am-uh, was in the castle.”

Annette noticed the slip up when the knight spoke but was nice enough not to say anything.

“You're not supposed to kill, period. But we both know that's impossible to do, take my death for example. I killed probably twenty, maybe even thirty people before I was killed during the battle.”

He leaned slightly in, face tense as he tried to empathize with his next words.

“I pray to the Goddess every time they fall. There are bad people, don’t get me wrong, but there are still people. They all have a family and home and probably have their own reason to attack me as well. I don’t like to take a life but I have to in order to protect my kingdom.”

Annette looked at him, flabbergasted and in awe. Maybe even more than a little shocked.

Because what he said was something she needed to hear, and it came from the most unexpecting source.

“It's alright to feel disgusted at times, maybe even hate or sadness but as long as you never take pleasure from taking a life then you're human.” He paused, perhaps seeing the irony of his words before going on. “Taking a life doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person, as long as you don’t take pleasure from it, to have a reason, being for it to survive or to protect someone then your human. Your human.”

Annette is a daughter of a knight and niece to the Baron of Dominic. She was a happy child until her father left her and her mother to who knows where. She always tried to do her best in order to find her father again. Always not enough. She had hope when the time comes words of comfort will come from her father. to see him and hug him again. It did not matter if he left for so long, all she wanted was for him to come back home.

But for some reason, it wasn't her father, a knight who was family to her to tell it was ok. It was not her Uncle who helped her with her magic studies but was unavoidably distance. It was not her mother who was holed inside the place she sometimes calls home.

It was a knight in ghostly armor, a person from a different realm, who told her it was ok.

And for some reason, she was ok with that.

She was ok.


	5. The way to another battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Large magic power, soft boy, memories of the past, anger over injustices, and another new side effect of having a ghost following you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, its been awhile. Sorry for anyone who like this story only for it to have months over moths not updating. Apologies for that, I know I have no excuses so I won't bother with that but what I will say is that for me, I don't update regularly or in a timely manner so please forgive me. What I will say if you comment over to update this story after a long period of time past then I will update as fast as I can. Just a fun fact so if any one sees that I haven't update this in months again or a month then please comment to update and I will replay and do just so. anyways I thank those that still read this even after for so long.

The walk to the battlefield felt like she was walking through one of Faerghus snow storms, heavy and cold.

It didn’t help that the sky was dark with gray clouds or that the trees made shadows as they walked through the trail. The stomps of hooves and the silents as they looked straight ahead was killing Annette.

Not as much as Ashe that she knew, but that thought only made things worse for her as she walked on almost mindless.

As it had turned out, everyone was already by the gates as soon as she walked down the steps. She was embarrassed, thankful that she managed to stop and erase almost all of her sadness, after the talk with Glenn, that she was the last one to arrive before their mission. It was then that she also noticed that there was also a group of Knights of Seiros and another soldier who stood out from all the rest.

Thunder Blade Catherine. 

Annette almost tripped over her own feet when she saw - no felt! - the magic that was coming out from the Heroes’ Relic. 

She knew for a fact what a Heroes Relic was, even got the chance to hold and swing her Houses own Heroes’ Relic (which ended up with half of the training grounds destroyed, no one ever did teach young Annette how much power a relic could hold). But the way she held onto it, sensed it, touched it! Well... she never knew what kind of sensation she experienced back then but she could say that it was like nothing she ever felt.

But now, as a young lady, a mage at that, she could practically feel the intensity of power that came from within that sword. 

It was strange in so many ways. For one, she has not yet reached the level in which she could feel other’s magic. Sure she could feel traces of it, smoothen by Mercie’s holy magic and frightened by Hubert’s own dark magic, but she doesn't possess the level in which she could feel the power behind such a trace.

But having to be near a Heroes’ Relic like this, it was unreal, blinding in a way that made her shaky and dizzy all at once. She might have fallen over, the power almost too great for her to handle if she did not feel a firm hand holding her steady.

“Concentrate. Breath, don’t focus on her magic. Focus on the mission, why you are here.”

She gulped before taking a breath like she was asked to. Trying to take both her mind and her senses off the magic that was radiating from Thunderbrand. She tried to concentrate on the mission, tried to think of the reason they were here in the first place.

Then she thought about the Red Cannon, how she killed three others, how she watched the man died slowly and agonizing as he looked up at her with a plea in his-

“Focus Annette. Focus on me, don’t think about anything else.”

So she did, taking her mind off the Red Cannon she tried to pull her thoughts out to the person that was behind her as a stable line for her to grasp.

Instantly she recognizes the pull of her own magic mixed with another type of magic of its own rights. She could feel her wind magic, soft in waves as it breezed in and out. Circling and covering her in a reassurance that made her think about the rare summer days of Faerghus. But that wasn’t all. The other magic mixed in was a mix of their own kind of magic as well. It felt sharp and clear, like an electrical energy that would either shock her or re-energize her if she got too close. But there was also a sense of holy magic, a clear essence of purity that she only felt around with Mercie.

She didn’t realize that her body was tense until her shoulders relaxed. 

“Now, breath again. Slow this time.”

She did, her breathing came in smooth waves rather than crashes by the shore. It did not take long for her to relax in a more stable state.

“There, can you feel it now? Her magic?”

No, she honestly couldn't. What was once were waves of intensity were now small pulses of energy that she could easily bat away and ignore if she chose to. 

“Good. Now hurry up before they start to look for you.”

Annette did as requested, stepping away from the shadows of the staircase but paused midstep.

“Thank you Glenn.”

She did not see the man's reaction back then but she only remembered feeling something shift behind her.

After that they were off, Knights behind them with the Blue Lion’s in the middle and both the Professor and Catherine in front like the protectors they are.

Well protector, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the Knight of Seiros just yet. While she knew the loyalties of a knight are unbreakable she… doesn’t have a great history with knights.

_Was I not good enough?_

Well if any case she was still hanging around with Ashe. She knew for a fact that while she may be uncomfortable with this whole arrangement, she knew that Ashe would be downright terrified.

_Do you see her…._

_Thunder Blade_ _Catherine... She's the one who…._

_Really! So Christoph was…_

_No wonder she was assigned to that mission…._

She wasn’t blind to gossip. She may still be pretty young but she was a noble as well, knowing that no noble House could escape the rumors that were spread from each and every single one. She knew for a fact that most gossip rumors were fake to an extent but even they hold a single grain of truth. 

And she could tell that the gossiped whispers reached Ashe’s ears far too soon.

And here they are, walking to the battlefield in which Lord Lanato may either be killed or still very much alive, rebellions against the Church.

_“Lanato is not a bad man! He's not! You have to believe me!”_

She only pressed her shoulders against Ashe in a reassurance that she was here.

That was all she could do for now anyways, she had no clue what would happen once they were at the battlefield.

She felt a shoulder pressing against her own, not a frim reassurance but a slight small weak push.

It may not be much but it was enough.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Glenn could easily tell the tension in the air around the group as they walk was suffocating for most of the younger ones during the walk.

Dimitri was nearing the front where the both leaders were at, but was hanging behind them so as to not to disturb them. A man, the same one that woke up Annette in the morning, was a step behind him, shadowing his steps like a knight ready to serve his king.

Idly, the former knight huffed at his position in the middle of the group of Blue Lions.

He knew very little of the man, far less than he rather liked to but he knew he was a retainer of some sorts to His Highness. He was always calling to Dimitri with his title with respect and served him at his best. He hardly saw him without the prince, and the very few times he did were him spending time in the greenhouse or in the dining hall. 

He knew nothing about the man but he would say that he was a man that he would not distrust. His loyalty to Dimitri was proven very well and did nothing that would hinder him as suspicious. 

What he did have a problem with was how many would send glares at the man, or whisper on how dare he try to serve the prince after what his people did to the crown.

He would not assume but the event of his death titled the ‘Tragedy of Duscur’ was most likely the reason they gave the man cold shoulders and cursed words.

And it angered him. 

Who were these people? To assume and throw all of their frustrations and fears to a man who had nothing to do with his death much less with the Kingdoms fall. Do they not know that man from Duscur also fell during that time, man who became knights and who helped trained and patrol with him during snowy nights and warm days? Do they think less of the Duscur knights that sacrificed themselves for a King that wasn’t even their own? Do they spit on their graves or leave their bodys six feet under with no one to remember? And what about thoses that were of Empire and Alliance nationality? Were they too forgotten and spat and cursed at?

If he was alive, he would imagine his blood boiling and the rushing of adrenaline through his veins. His palms will probably be clammy and the need to do something was hard to ignore. The habit of undoing his hair ties and redoing his hair in a pigtail instead of his usually loose braid hair came into play as he moved his hands to his hair. Angry tugs and a couple of messy tries Glenn had officially made a messy low ponytail. 

He sighed.

He wished he could be alive again so he could punch every single person who dared sees that loyal Duscur man anything less than human.

Just see that he won’t, try him if you will.

Huffing a bit to himself he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from the boy he protected and his retainer to the rest of the group. 

He saw the other three, his family, were near a war horse. Sylvain chatting with Ingrid, or trying to as Ingrid seems more focused on berating him on something he did, probably his habit of flirting again. He could see his brother walking forward, making a point to not talk with anyone and keep a distance ahead of the rest, body guarded and a hand on his sword handle. Mercie was hovering to be near Ingrid and speaking softly with her before walking a little ahead to the last two of her classmates before moving besides Ingrid again.

He looked at the last two, the younger ones of the group. 

Annette was with the gray hair boy, Ashe from what he could remember from the mage’s talks with him. They both were quiet and silent which was unusual for the two of them, both of them walking side by side with each other, their shoulders touching. It seemed that they were both using each other as a safe pillar to keep themselves standing, a support system that both needed to hold on unless they would soon fall and tumble over.

He bit his tongue. Another thing he wanted desperately to get mad at.

He is not a person that judge by looks alone, loyalty and trust was not something you could sign on paper or take a glance at a person and think they fit the criteria. Words were far better to understand but it is action that always sticks out to find if a knight truly would stand to protect their King, something he was taught to hold above all else. 

With the boy though, he wanted to protect him as soon as he heard the whispers from all those in the monastery. It was hard not to notice the visible flinch and the undeniable hurt whenever someone would talk about the rebellion. He would have this kicked puppy face that reminded him of Felix whenever his hair tie falls off or whenever he said he didn’t have time to play with him. He should have run when he had the chance but now he was stuck with the thought of protecting this boy like how he would protect Felix.

 _But then he failed didn’t he? When he saw how cold and distant and hard his little brother's eyes were. How warm amber was now mottled gold that always_ **_burned_ ** _. His little brother was carrying a burden and it was undeniable that he was a cause of some part of his brothers scared palmed hands and closed off stance._

Ashe was a boy who he wanted to protect, it wasn’t until he heard who was his father and who was leading the rebellion by the whispering gossip that he vowed to shield him no matter what.

He was Lonato’s son.

He was one of Christophe’s adopted siblings.

They were walking to kill the boy's father.

He was off to watch this all happen.

The boy was walking to his father’s corps.

He never felt so sick in his life.

To Glenn, family was everything to him. His Mother’s wonderful songs and soft pure magic she taught him when he asked to help Felix’s bruises. His Father’s roughed up pats on his back and his display of training spars whenever they were to practice together. Felix with his wonder to befriend everyone and to seek his comfort over their own parents since he was his brother whenever he was upset. 

Family to Glenn was everything, so when his family grew - to the small redhead skirt chase that could rival you in any board games, the soft spoken girl who would not back down to become a knight as his future wife, and the prince who always asked for guidance and give out words of encouragement to his friends - he had promised to protected them from the world as much as possible.

_Yet look where that landed him. Dead. Trapped. A burden._

So to say that his family grew by a few more people when he left to the Officers Academy to learn was an understatement. 

One of those people was a social butterfly of a knight, a boy who had the same gray hair as his father and sun kissed skin to match his equally bright smile. A boy he watched master a sword like him and could hit an enemy from miles away with a single arrow. A boy who loved all the animals in the monastery - whether it be the lone cats or battle ready wyverns - and who would not stop talking about his siblings like they were the light of his life. A boy near his own age, one who he would get into fierce battering over who had the better and cuter younger sibling like the fierce loving older brothers they were.

A boy who scratched his cheek in embarrassment as he extended his hand for him to shake it in greetings on their first day.

“Hi! My name is Christophe Stephen Gaspard, it’s nice to meet you. I hope we could become good friends this year.”

He didn’t know what happened, wasn’t there when he was inevitably burned and sliced to bits in front of the prince. He didn’t know, he could not understand why others would say that Lord Lonato was going against the Church for killing his son.

His eldest son.

Christophe.

He didn’t understand it. 

Why would the Church kill Christophe? 

What was the Tragedy of Duscur?

Why was Lonato holding a rebellion?

Why was he here?

Whispers and gossip can only give you so much. 

He wished he wasn’t invisible, he wanted some answers to his questions more than anything. But the only person who could give him any sort of answers was having a slow mental breakdown. 

His answers to his questions are important, but so was the well being of these children.

He would not do anything to cause them any further harm.

He could wait a little longer.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Annette gripped onto her wind tome even tighter as she gazed at the swirling fog that surrounded her. 

Admittedly she should have taken the option of going with someone else, having been given a choice to partner up with someone instead of going into the fog alone. In most cases she would have taken the offer, the haunting fog and the promise of enemies lurking behind the magical curtain of mist was not something she would have willingly experienced. Not for a second. 

But then, one look from the knights and she could tell right away they would not follow through with the Professor’s plan.

The Professor had made a plan, one that made Annette both relieved and grateful to the young teacher in more ways than one. While they were given the orders to ‘quell the rebellion’, it had not necessarily meant killing them. Instead of killing the soldiers, they are to restrain and knock as many enemies as they can. “Most of these men are villagers from the nearby village,” the Professore monotoned. “If all the men were killed, then the village is without protection and would not survive very long as soon as we leave.” There was some protest from the small group of knights but with more reasoning and backlash from the Professor she only said that the Archbishop trusts her jugdmnet and that they are here to ‘quell’ what is ‘left’ of the rebellion. Most of the knights stopped talking after that, not wanting to go against the words of the Archbishop’s favored and another for the empty glare that the blue hair woman was pointing at all of them.

Ashe was close to tears when he heard of this, his hand gripping her own.

But then there was one set back as soon as they entered the field.

Lord Lonato however, was another matter entirely from the man they were fighting. No one had thought they would have to fight the Lord himself, since they all thought they would be there to clean whatever stranglers they were left to defeat.

This offset Thunder Catherine when she heard that they were not to engage with the Lord unless they too were attacked by the Lord. She was pushing to stop him, saying over and over that while the Archbishop may have given the Professor authority over the rest it does not mean that she should capture the man alive when he obviously had threatened Lady Rhea. It was obvious she was growing frustrated when the Professor kept on refusing to see the threat that the Lord was to the Church and ‘her students’ if she let that man live and draw more breath.

In the end she did not retaliate when the Professor said that she would be following her, knowing what the underline meaning of her words was, and said that if she managed to face the man then she would cut him down.

This made everyone in the Blue Lion’s visabley steel themselves and His Highness looked troubled when Catherine looked at him and said that she was only doing what must be done in order to protect everyone else. 

With that the Professor gave them all a plan, one that was to make sure they save everyone.

Annette heard the sound of footsteps coming closer.

She took a step back but stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Steady, firm, familiar. Glenn.

She sucked in her breath and waited, shoulders tense and feet wide in a stance in preparation to attack. 

One, two, three seconds passed by before a sword glimmered and the face of an angered villager came after her.

“Now.”

She waved her hand in front of her, aiming for the feet of the villager as he blindly ran to run her down. The villager tried to move but was not fast enough to dodge the blade of wind that swept under his feet. He was down head first before another blade of wind moved to loosen his hand and release the sword on his grip. With the steady advice of “Quick, use of the handle of your axe!” from Glenn she used the distraction of his shock expression to hit his head with her axe on the wooden handle.

He dropped down fast, unconscious from the heavy blow on the head. Annette cringed from the sound of the villagers head bounding once on the dirt floor before he laid still. Before she could do anything to cheek on the man she heard the sound of heavy boots behind her.

This time she did not raise her weapon in self-defense but turned with a guilty expression.

“Ingrid,” she winned, guilt dripping from her voice. “I-I think I may have hit him a little too hard.”

The girl in question only took one look at the man before releasing a sigh. “No. No I don’t think you did. He doesn't look injured and his head isn’t swelling at all so that’s good.” She explained as she crouched down to bind the man's hands in a piece of rope that she had at hand. Moving her gaze from her task she gave the girl a small smile. “Don’t worry about the sound. It’s worse when there’s no sound. That’s when you should really be worried.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Positive,” Ingird reassured. “Anyways we might want to hurry out front. I know from behind that Feilx ran ahead with Sylvain and Ash-”

Both girls froze.

The fog that was once was thick and passive to their vision was now lifting. In less than seconds the swirling masses were gone, not a single trace of the unnatural mist laid to waste behind.

Ingrid was the first to stand, man tied and steel lance in hand as she stood up. “I guess that means the Professor found the mage.”

Annette felt compiled to correct her from saying ‘mage’ instead of ‘black mage’ but only nodded instead. “Yeah. That means the Professor’s plan is working.”

Ingrid hummed.

The plan, as they were told, was to have a buddy system of storts. Most of them would be in teams of three, two as attackers and one for backup and capture. While the attackers of the teams were to head straight first into the fog, they were not to engage in combat until they saw an enemy in sight. Once an enemy tries to attack them however, they are to disarm and knock out the enemy where the one as backup would come and tie up those that were knocked out.

“Leave the enemy behind,” the Professor advised. “No one would hurt them as long as they are captured.”

But then they had the problem of having to choose who will be a group of two. The Professor was supposed to join to make three groups of three but she had to stay with the knights. The unspoken reason hung over them as she said that.

Annette volunteered to be the one to attack by herself. To her, it was still technically three people with Glenn by her side and how he would always warn her for any signs of danger. To her she would think she would be safe enough to handle anyone one that comes to her way. 

But half of the class thought otherwise.

It took quite a bit of time to convince her class that she can take care of herself. 

In the end it was the Professor that looked Annette in the eye and told her if she was sure she could do this by herself. 

With the feeling of pure white thunder magic behind her she said yes.

And that was that.

Seeing now the path that they were following, Annette noted the few men that were tied and unconscious near the edge of the forest. There was no one in their way if they were to continue the path but if they were to continue looking ahead…

“Lord Lonato,” Ingrid whispered. 

There, in a plate form of white and green, a man in silver armor and riding a war horse was Lord Lonato himself. He has long hair that reached his jaws, silver either from age of old or nature birth she would never know as he held himself with courage. Eyes sweeping around, it wasn’t long till his head moved to look at their way that Annette paused.

There was something… something about him… no, something around him that remind her of-

“Christophe.”

And for almost a month now, Annette was in shock.

There behind Lord Lonato was a semi-transparent boy, a man that was closer to Glenn’s age, hovering over by the Lord’s arm as he pulled and tugged at him to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> -Glenn and Christophe went to the Academy in 1173 (Same year as Balthus after I went back to see the timeline to double check( so I'm going to say Holst went to the academy at that year as well.))  
> -Glenn is six years older then Felix  
> -Glenn's birthday is 1156, Harpstring Moon, 21  
> -Felix's birthday is 1162, Pegasus Moon, 20  
> -The Tragedy of Duscur happened in the Guardian Moon of 1176. This would mean that Felix would be 13 and Glenn would have died at 19  
> -Christophe's birthday is 1156, Blue Sea Moon, 4  
> -Christophe was brought to the Church in 1176, Garland Moon, 24 but was killed in Blue Sea Moon, 10.  
> -Christophe died at age 20  
> -The FE3H timeline said that Ashe and his siblings were adopted by Lonato, 3 yrs before Christophe died, so that would be 1173. But instead I'm going to say 5yrs so they will be adopted at 1171  
> 


	6. Is that...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Young Lord's past, another's joy and pride, and one's frustrations.

His name was Christophe Stephen Gaspard, son of Lord Lonato. He was an only child, having been told stories of his mother who passed away during his birth. He wasn’t supposed to be an only child though, his mother had also been pregnant two other times before she had him. One was a still born and one died a month after birth. If he remembered correctly, he would have had an older sister and an older brother in order. But he never did.

And he felt a little frustrated by that.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his father and he respected his decision not to remarry. It wasn’t for him to decide if his father wanted to find love again or not but he couldn’t help but think what it will feel like to have siblings of his own. Most of the other noble houses, when visited or when they travel to greet them, have more than one child in their line of succession. Sure they were more hell bent to have crest children have the inheritance unlike them who have no crest under their name. And sure there were some more powerful houses that were rumored to have battles of their children fighting for their right to rule unlike their smaller estate. It's just… lonely sometimes.

And he was alone all the time.

And sometimes… he thinks that father is lonely too.

Their table at dinner time was always a little too big, a bit too quiet.

But there was nothing he could do about it so he did the next best thing, he went to the nearby village.

The village was always bursting with people. Some come from far off lands, mercenaries that trade and others who sell their sword. There are travelers every other day, telling their tales at the pub or playing with the children of the village. Others were locals who would always seem flustered to talk with the ‘Lord’s son’ but they got used to him after months coming and telling them all to call him by his name instead of ‘Young Lord’.

He, for better words, was no longer alone.

But he can’t help but feel the bitterness every time he leaves back home, when he sees a mother helping her child, when he sees siblings laughing and playing with one another.

Christophe, in better words for wear, was no longer alone but still he felt so lonely.

Jealous.

But then he didn’t stay lonely forever. It wasn’t till he was 15 did something happen. Something amazing.

Well it didn’t start off amazing. In fact…

“Young Lord! Someone has broken in the Lord’s office!”

He was terrified.

He didn’t think twice to turn tail and find his Father, who he knew was going to work in his office the whole day.

Was he being held ransom? Or did the thief not know his Father was going to work all day and came at an unexpected time? Was he armed or has he attacked yet? Did he hurt Father? Was he down for the count or was he fighting the thief right now? Was the thief well know to kill or was-

He stopped his rushing thoughts of emotions when he was only a few feet away from the door to his Father’s work study. Without a second though he burst open the door and ran inside.

“Father,” Christopher yelled in a panic. “Father are you all right?”

Then he paused.

What he had expected, or maybe more like feared, was that the room would have been trashed. Glass on the floor and pages scattered across, blood may have been spilled and hefty signs of a struggle with his Father still fight with the mysterious thief that was more than likely to have been almost beaten or still fighting.

What he didn’t expect but seemed to be the reality he was seeing was his Father sitting on a chair of red velvet with cushions and a warm animal hide being placed on top of his lap as he sat near the warmth of the fireplace with a book in hand.

“Father?”

He was confused.

“Christophe,” his Father greeted him with a nod, like everything was normal and he didn’t run the whole length of the house to save him, before gesturing to the door with his head. “Can you close the door, you're letting the cold air escape.”

He blinked.

“Wah...but...they-huh?”

His Father, bless the Goddess for making him so patient, only smiled at the baffled look upon his son before moving a hand to his side. “Our guest is cold. I rather not have him freeze if I could prevent it.”

For the first time since he entered, Christophe looked to his Father’s side.

And he almost had a heart attack.

There, hidden by his Father's big arms and the book that was still open, was a little boy. He was a small thing, far smaller then he would have thought possible. He has silver gray hair, almost similar to that of his own silver white hair that was pale rather than shiny but then again that wasn’t saying much. His hair was dirty and greasy with grim, his skin was brown with dirt, and his clothes - scruffy looking things with holes and thin plain oversized long sleeve tunic with short pants and worn out boots - were no better. But what pulled him in was the little boy's face. Dirty cheeks that were hollowed down a bit, scratches all around his eyes with the brightest pair of deep emerald green eyes he has ever seen.

It was also then that he realized that the boy was shivering.

His original mission on why he bursted through the door of his Father’s study was all but abandoned and his overly over protective side kicked in.

Without a word he made quick work on closing the door with his foot while he tried to take off his coat, a fine leather thing that was tailored with fur and wool. It was custom made for him, one of his favorite coats with the design of the fallen snow. But as favored as it may be, he didn’t need it right now, didn’t want it. He just wanted to take it off as quickly as possible so he could give it to that child that was sitting right next to his Father. Like hell he was going to stand there and watch this child shiver and fidget in the cold like that. Didn’t he know it was winter already?

Once he finally gotten the damn coat off (he was starting to question the use of having so many buttons) he took long steps in order to get to the child faster and practically did a dive to crouch down to the small boy who looked at him with astonishment and hints of fear as he cuddle closer to his Father as a protected shield.

His heart squeaked at the sight of him.

“Hey,” he cooed, his voice significantly softer than how he first entered through the room yelling out to his Father in a panic. “My name is Christophe.” He placed a hand over his heart to show who he was. This made the boy a little less clingy to his Father, eyes still holding on to the emotions of bewilderment and fear but also an unsuitable shine of interests and curiosity as he watched him introduce himself. “You see that man right there,” he pointed at his Father and the boy's eyes darted to him to his Father before looking back at him as if he were to say ‘continue’. “He’s my Father. His name is Lonato,” he said softly and slowly, knowing it's best not to scare the child if he could help it. “So now that you know our names, what's your?”

The boy's eyes still hold astonishment but most of the fear was gone and replaced with something else, something that made him feel warm and protective for this kid that he just laid eyes on. The boy didn’t say anything for a while, not moving away but not coming any closer. Eventually he looked over at Lonato before looking at him before ducking his head down in an almost shy manner that made Christophe want to coo at the actions of the boy. “It’s Ashe,” the boy whispered, a new tint of red in his cheeks that Christophe knew was a blush in the boy’s cheeks.

But looking at the boy’s - no, Ashe’s - cheeks made him remember all of the dirt and grime the boy must be wearing.

He made up his mind. If from the way he was dressed and how small he looked then maybe...

“Ashe is a nice name, cute too,” he teased him and got the pleasure of seeing him turn a brighter shade of color. “Hey do you want to come with me? I think we should take a bath. I’m pretty worn out myself and I can really go for a soak right about now.”

Whatever reason this boy was here or why his Father was sitting with him in the first place did not matter in the slightest as he was now fully attached to this kid. So sue him if he wanted to cuddle the boy and give him warm clothes and wrap him in thick layers of wool until he drowns in fluff so he could stay forever warm.

_He just wanted someone to protect._

He expected the boy to pause, even look hesitant as he squirmed unsure if he should take the deal or not. What he did not expect was for Ashe to play with his fingers and refuse to meet his gaze when he said, “But then I’ll be leaving Anshul and Aster alone.”

Well… he wasn’t expecting that. Were those the boy’s parents, were they his guardians? He can’t help the way his shoulders slump down as he looked at Ashe with sadness.

 _‘It can’t be helped,’_ he thought.

“Oh,” he forced a fack cheer in his voice. “Are those your parents?”

This got a strong reaction from Ashe. With a fast shake of his head he blubbered out a “No!” He pressed his lips together in embarrassment and Christophe was about to apologize for asking such a question when Ashe started to talk again. “Aster and Anshual are my little brother and sister,” he mutters in a low pout. “My mommy and daddy died a long time ago.”

Well, if the information of his parents being dead wasn’t so heavy he might have hugged the kid for not only being this adorable but that there are more of them. Two more smaller ones at that.

Maybe…

Christophe looked to the side where his Father was and he could tell they were both thinking of the same thing.

“Hey Ashe,” Christophe said as he wrapped the coat that he had in hand around the boy who had his full attention on him. “Why don’t you bring your little brother and sister here then?”

“E-eh?”

In a few days, the Gaspard estate had gotten three of the guest rooms personalized, new tailored clothes for three small children, and three more servings of food were brought to the table much to the chiefs happiness for having someone else enjoy their food. In no time the estate was looking livelier, all because of the happy looks their Lord and Young Lord had when they showed the children around the estate or having hearing child-like laughter throughout the halls. Already the staff had taken to the three siblings after the shock of having their Lord adopt them right off the streets. The Ubert siblings were a joy to have and as quickly as they have taken to them the siblings also were quick to relax and seek comfort in their new home unlike the first time where they were far more hesitant to ask for anything and had the habit of stealing from the kitchen when they thought they weren’t going to be eating that day. The cooks made sure to feed them daily and the maids made a point to always give out small snacks in between meal times.

It wasn’t until a week later that Christophe remembered about the thief that he was supposed to help chase away and how he didn’t see anyone but Ashe and his Father in the room that he asked his Father what had happened.

His Father only looked at him briefly from his paperwork with his eyebrows raised and an expression of amusement dancing across his face that Christophe knew that he was somehow going to be told off by his need of improvement of his observation skills. He could still remember the look on his Father’s face when he said he wanted to learn the bow and how he managed to hit a bullseye the first time using one. His Father never let him live it down how different his observations become when he trained every chance he gets.

“You, Christophe Stephen Gaspard, have been helping me foster the so-called ‘thief’ you were going after.”

He spent the rest of the day clinging to Ashe much to the embarrassment of the green eyed boy and the jealousy of his siblings.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Glenn, for better or worse, found a friend in the most unlikely of places.

He was feeling warm. Not in the sense of where he could feel the sun (he tried and he was still as pale as ever) or where he felt the heat of another person next to him (he could never feel anyone's warmth other than Annette’s but even then it was just the feeling of her magic cooling him down) but in a sense in which the warmth is coming from him. Like if he had a long day of training or when he ate that spicy dome bowl that boiled his stomach (which was amazing by the way he just doesn’t understand why everyone else said it was too spicy). It was a warmth that he was making.

Interesting.

“What?”

Ah, he said that out loud didn’t he, his name anyways.

Turning around to see Annette looking at him, one of pure confusion and astonishment she was lost over words on what he meant.

“This,” he started, mainly to give him a chance to collect and gather himself to say something. “Is not something I would think could happen.”

Christophe, is what he meant, was not someone who he thought he could see again.

Yet low and behold, beyond the point of no return there was a boy that reminded him of Chrsitophe. Is Christophe.

He may have thought of this before but he will say it again, what in the name of the Goddess is happening.

“Hmm? Did you say something Annette?”

Ah, right. They weren’t alone.

Before Annette could turn around and say anything, Glenn quickly grabbed a hold of her shoulder and said fiercely. “Answer her and continue on. We can talk when we continue with your professores plan.”

Annette stiffed before turning with a small but still noticeable nod of her head for him to make sure she understood while she waved a hand over her face at Ingrid. “No, no! Just wondering is all.”

Ingrid stared. “Wondering?”

“Y-yeah,” Annette was sweating a storm and Glenn had to hold back a facepalm with her obvious nervousness. “I mean, I know the fog is gone and all but I still don’t see our classmates anywhere or the Professore.”

Huh, that made Glenn pause. Good save.

“Ah, I see,” Ingrid hummed in agreement. “Well it is troubling not to know where the rest of our classmates may be. Especially with Sylvain and Felix in the same group.” Glenn had to agree on that, observing the two the last month showed how much trouble those two can become. “We should still be able to see them soon once we finish our part of the Professores plan. All we could do is head for Lord Lonato himself.” After a pause of consideration when she looked at the trail she added. “It might be best to stay in the middle for now. Most of the archers seem to be protecting the Lord and the mage was already cut down. We should be safe from distance attacks for now but there still might be some villages who have some close range weapons on hand that might come and attack.”

Glenn paused in amaze and wonder. This… this was Ingrid? A smile full of pride stretched across his face while he watched both girls starting to agree with the blondes plans and jog their way to Lord Lonato with heavy tension rising with every step they took. Still…

Stopping for a second from being next to Annette, Glenn waited a few seconds before he curled his armored arms around the jogging Ingrid his way.

It was strange yet perfect. He could not touch her, his arms already going through her body as she gazed forward but Glenn couldn’t help the warmth and joy that bursted in his chest as he felt how close he was to his family. How close he was to being with her, just seeing her, how proud he was of her. He didn’t even let the child-like glee he had disappeared and faded when she went through him and continued running along a few feet away from Annette. Nothing held more satisfaction then seeing how much his little Ingrid had grown, how strong, how brave.

He smiled even when he felt a burn behind his eyes.

Ghosts don’t cry, they don’t exist. Spirits can’t be sad, they are not real. But Glenn felt pride, and his emotions were getting to him.

Once the day was over he would think back and wonder if he could cry - if someone, if something like him could ever cry again.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Felix was very disappointed. Here he was, ready for the day to arise and fight, using what he had practiced and learned from all his training from the last month to good use so that he could finally have a fight. He was more than annoyed and angered when the Professores said that they would not be picking a fight but instead focus on restraint and capture.

But then one look at those knights postesting, ignoring that of the anguished on the adopted Young Lord of the village that send its villages to battle and protect their Lord had made him shut up, watching as the Professors backlashes at the knights with logic and authority until the fools finally got on the Professors nerves and earned an emptied eye glare.

He almost felt satisfaction that he got to see these lazy half-witted knights get chewed out by the Professor instead of having a real challenge to fight against. Almost.

With a grunt he moved on from the unconscious swordsmen he just knocked out. Was he even a swordsman? He’s technique was so sloppy and his footing was wrong and just an utter embarrassment. Seriously, have none of these villages picked up a weapon before? Was the villagers that laxed that they never had an attack before or were they so overly confident of their ‘skills’ that they don’t see a reason to train or fix anything of their stances?

They're all fools wasting his time and training on them.

“Hey Felix, wait up. You need to slow down a bit you know.”

Felix grunted and grinned his teeth.

Perhaps if he ignored him, he might just go away.

“Come on Fe. Don’t you leave your best buddy behind.”

Then again, Felix knew that was wishful thinking, not even the Goddess will guarantee his safety from this mad man.

“I-I think you might want to listen to Sylvain, Felix. We don’t know if there might be any more locals ahead.”

Felix almost let out a tired sigh as he stopped walking ahead. He bluntly ignored Sylvain’s protest for him stopping to listen to Ashe but not for him and turned his head slightly behind him, still pointedly refusing to turn his whole body. “The fog has lifted so there won’t be as many enemies to fight. If you had paid any mind, you could have heard their footsteps running away from here. They’re not trained swords, you know, they don’t know a thing about stealth.”

He expected the over exaggerated sigh from Sylvain as he ran his hand in his hair but he didn’t know Ashe well enough to grim and nod in agreement. “Yeah, none of the villages have ever had a battle so close to home so they usually don’t get called out to battle that much. It’s rare to even have someone ask for man since we're more well known for trade and not to sell swords.”

“Huh,” Sylvain blinked. “I didn’t know that. So you guys never had any trouble in your domain?”

Felix had to admit but it was rare to see a house and its domain clean from any battles or rebellions. The Kingdom, as much as no one likes to admit but the snobb like nobles who have nothing better to do but watch gleefully at the royal family as they wait for them to break, has been slowly failing after the tragedy years ago. For a number of people to die in one night, to the sudden surprise and power of the attack, and the news of shock that spread to not only those in the Kingdom but all of Fodlan, it was a tragedy that struck everyone. It was an impossible feat but yet it had happened right under their noses. After that, the Tragedy was nothing but a fire starter for many other rebellions and people that were angry about the royal family and noble houses to attack.

Realistically, Felix knew that not everyone would be happy with the royal family, much less with his family line. He’s not blind to think that everyone would accept their rulings and live by it but even he didn’t anticipate the number of people who saw every flaw and wrongs they have done to rebel every month. That was one of his first tastes of reality, one of many.

“No.” Ashe shook his head with signs of confliction in his eyes. “We’re mostly at peace, not much of a battle out here since Lonato was my age. We are a small trading town so we don’t get anything bad besides the usual small pickpockets and thieves and the people love Lonato too much to rebel against him. I-” His face which was soft in worry twisted in pain and regret. “I just don’t understand why Lonato would do this. Doesn’t he know he’s dragging in our people into this as well?”

Felix said nothing to the boy. Not from having nothing to say but knowing that he should bite his tongue before he made things worse for the boy by calling his old man a fool. He, at least, had human dignity.

Thankfully Sylvain had that cover for the both of them as he wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder and leaned into him. “Hey, hey. You got to have a little faith you know. With the Professor in charge, you can be sure to figure out what happened to him, alright?”

Ashe softened and gave off a wobbly but still presented smile as he whipped around the rim of his eyes. “Yeah… yeah your right. We can definitely trust the Professor can’t we?”

“That's the spirit!” Sylvain cheered before patting the boy on the back that earned a yelp as he got pushed forward a step before catching himself. “Come one now. We still need to head up north.”

 _And face Lord Lonato_ , was left unsaid.

Felix had the decency to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> -Aster Ubert, Ashe's little sister and is two years younger than Ashe. The date of birth is currently undecided so current age is still unknown  
> -Anshul Ubert, Ashe's little brother and is four years younger than Ashe. The date of birth is currently undecided so current age is still unknown  
> -Aster is cheerful, naïve, and determine: she was first sheltered by her brother Ashe and when adopted by the staff of House Gaspar but she quickly throw that idea out the window when she decided to train and learn to fight as well. Unlike her older brothers (Ashe and Christophe) she learn magic and is proficient in thunder magic. But like her older brothers, she liked to ride a mount and quickly taken to the idea of flying. However, when Christophe died she made it her mission to learn how to use the sword like her adopted brother so she can remember him by.  
> -Anshul is quiet, observant, and knowledgeable: he, unlike his siblings, didn't like the idea of fighting at all. He spent most of his time in the liberty to read and learn about the world from ink or go out to town and help the village as best he can. As he grew he liked to help with his adopted Father Lonato with managing the House's domain or traveling alone with him. It was when Christophe died that he strive to protect what family he had left and learn to use the axe and sword (Axe for Lonato and sword for Christophe) and grew hell bound on learning holy magic: the magic of healing. He wants to be there to protect what is left.  
> -Glenn meet Christophe officially at the academy but heard of him by noble gossip. Nothing bad was said and he knew that his domain was generally peaceful giving the impression that Christophe doesn't know how to fight well and was proven right by how clumsy and airheaded the boy was. He was both annoyed at the boy thinking he was wasting everyone's time and worried over this walking disaster that he might get himself killed. It wasn't until he saw Christophe in battle that he realized that he shouldn't underestimate the smaller Houses and started to respect Christophe after challenging him to a duel to see if his previous battle was a flunk. It wasn't.  
> -Christophe learned to respect others at a early age no matter their background. So when he first meet the Blue Lions of his time he was generally nice to everyone and respected them. He helped at lot of the staff and tried to get alone with his classmates. When he meet Glenn however he was a little put off by how he acted around him: snaps when he made a joke, yells when he wasn't 'training', and exaggerated sighs when he managed to trip over air. It annoyed him since all the others either act polite around him or were in good terms. To have someone who was rude and infuriating with him made him want to earn his respect and find a friend in Glenn. He tried everything; gifted him flowers, polished his sword, helped him find the libraries books needed for class, and brought cats over to him when he stared at them for to long. Still it only annoyed Glenn more. It wasn't intill they quilled down a rebellion did Glenn ask to spare with him did he managed to some how get him to see him as an equal. He didn't know he did it but he was glad that Glenn started to see him as a friend.  
> -Until the subjects of siblings came along.


	7. This is Our Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Father who gain only to lose, brothers who are powerless against fate, then fate itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Probably will start doing Ghostly Brother of His more, might wait on Finding His Starlight to make the plot, will do the Demon Slayer series I have more since I do have a lot planed for that one. Other then that i am ok with what i have as an update schedule. Thank you for listening to this TED Talk.

Lanto is old for a man of his age. Yes, perhaps he could still pick up his sword and fight. He was no stranger to going off with his horse stead and riding off around his small area of land he owns, what he is proud to call his domain. Walking around the estate, relaxing in the garden, or training along with his son is one of the daily routines he applied into his life. 

However, he could always feel the strain of his back becoming a regular occurrence. His legs would sometimes give off pop sounds and his hair was no longer his normal silver-white but into simply a dull gray. His eyesight was worsening, memory was becoming far and in between, and his body was becoming more tired. 

Simply put, he was too old.

And yet he wanted to live on and help the burden that was to be on his son's shoulder.

Christophe is his favorite son, his only son in fact. A fact that led him to cherish him very much so. He was raised to be kind, always so kind. His knowledge of the lands around them and the people was experienced from the many travels they have done. His swordplay was polished, his lance skills were defined, and his clumsy fingers somehow made magic flow through the winds when he shot an arrow followed closely by blades of green. Etiquette, manners, law, and ruling were learned over the course of years and Lanto would be safe to say that when it is his time he would pass down the title of Lord down safely to his son. 

Yet it did not feel that way to him. 

No matter how old he was, Christophe was still his only son, his only child. He can’t bear to place the burden of having all his life's work on his son alone. And even more, that was the problem itself. 

His son would be alone. 

Lanto had not been alone, after all, he was now used to it. It didn’t mean he wasn’t affected by it though. He hated it but he learned to coop with it. Christophe, on the other hand, wasn’t.

So he started to plan and look. He thought about finding someone to marry his son but decided against it. He thought of finding another noble to befriend Christophe but most nobles his age either wanted something from their domain, for their blood family or were busy learning to take care of their domain as heirs. He thought about finding a guard, a knight, or even someone that could help to care for his son but this all led to another question. Will they stay by his son to the very end? Where will their loyalty lie?

The answer was something that he can’t afford to get wrong. 

So days and weeks pass. Season change and then years came. His little boy was now a young adult, one who watches his people with gentle eyes and a voice that held an authority that one can’t argue against. Yet his habits of being oblivious to his surroundings stayed the same, his fault of staying up late with anything that catches his interests never dwindled, and his love of surgery sweets and glazed fruits seem to always make the cooks amused. 

He was a man with the soul of a child. 

He loves him so much.

He loves his boy so much and he gives him all his love because that's all he could do. He might not find the person that would stay by his son's side but he will live and love his son as long as he can.

He can promise him that.

And then his study was left with an open window and a small boy with his eyes skimming the pages of a book that he was sure was supposed to be in the library. He met another little boy with the mind of an adult. That's when things started to change. 

The boy was filthy, dirty, and with the connection of the window left open did he realize what he was here for. He had thought to chase the kid away by scowling him a bit before taking him back to his parents but he stopped when he starred a bit longer. 

Slightly hollow cheeks, clothes that are too thin in the winter snow, pale skin, and bruises of many shades of blue. However, that wasn’t what caught his eyes. The boy’s eyes were shining, even though he clearly looked like he could have been better off. His eyes seem to hold the wonders of the world as he flipped page after page, in awe at the fictional tale that laid before him.

_ “Father, I want this one!” _

_ “Are you sure? This one will take a couple of days to read.” _

_ “Yeah!” Eyes of wonder sparkle in awe. “That would just mean you will come back to read to me.” _

_ “You're right,” he huffed with fondness. “That would just mean I will have to come back. Come, move the candle this way so we can start.” _

_ “OK!” _

Without really thinking about it he took a step forward.

He was so glad he did.

The boy was young, one of the poor victims of the effects of the plague. His parents were no longer alive, the eldest of a leftover family of three. Hungry, poor, and cold. Desperate he chose to learn to steal. He was caught the first time around, then the second, then the third. It wasn’t until he tried for his eleventh time did he manage not to get caught. Then the twelfth, then the thirteenth, and the next one after that. He was better at picking locks and running silently. He was small enough to fit in cabinets and under every bed, his hair was dark with dirt so no one could recognize his natural silver-white, he was proficient enough to steal from many in a crowd. 

He became a thief in order to survive and care for whatever family he had left. He made sure never to get caught, never to linger, never to steal from the same person more than once. 

Until he was caught by him. 

And he offered the armchair by the fire for the little boy to warm up.

Christophe came barreling in not a few minutes after.

His son was cautious and scared when he cried out his name but he changed dramatically when he saw the little thief by his side, pressing himself to become even smaller than he already was. 

Then his son got the little thief to open up. His name was Ashe and he wanted to find some spare coins or food for the winter season. Ashe was easy to tease and he spoke so little. He was needed back soon, however, and wanted to leave.

Christophe took his hand and offered him a bath and told him that he would pick up his siblings for him instead. 

By midnight the House of Gaspar had one guest room clean and polishes, dishes of fruits and dry meats placed on the table, and three thoroughly washed children sleeping soundlessly in one giant bed. 

Lanto didn’t know how it came to be. His office now has three extra armchairs, each to match the children much to the younger one's delight. The kitchen staff had the pleasure to know the three more personally than not, their habits of storing food were not berated on as they always left out dry foods for them to store in their room. The maids always fret when Ashe would come into their quarters and try to clean his clothes much to the maids’ horror. Anshul became friends with the librarian as he was taught to read and write in his spare time rather than his lessons. Aster became the regulated sight of the early morning risers, having gone to visit the horse every morning day to help feed and clean the noble steads. 

The children, for better or worse, were humble. They would always do the work of a maid even when the rest of the staff said they were more than happy to clean after them. Their choice of clothing was modest at best, plain simple solid colors that even Christophe had taken the time to ask the streamest to help him make designs for their spring clothing next season. What's more, is that they refuse to be selfish in any way. 

When dinner that night was salted fish Ashe said nothing but ate in silence with his face in a slight grim. When the night came Anshul said nothing when the candles were blown out and clutched the blanket tightly. As the stable boys led off their horses to run along the plains Aster said nothing but watch as they managed to ride the steads bareback and race each other. 

So Lanto came to ask questions. Do you want some fruit with your dinner Ashe? Would you like to have a lamp placed in your room if you want a late-night reading Anshul? One of the stable boys is sick today so we need another hand to help ride the horses today, would you like to ride one Aster?

The children were regrettable weary when he started to ask questions even when he twisted them enough so he didn't ask them directly. They would all deny any open hand opportunities and would stay silent. Not once have they asked for anything but Lanto kept on asking even when they always answer with a ‘no’. Soon his son found out what he was trying to do and started to do the same which made the children both relaxed and tense. Relaxed to have someone closer to their age ask but tensed from all those questions. It was then when the staff started to ask them if they started to crack.

Anshul was surprisingly the first one to ask. He had simply asked if he could be taught how to do magic. A simple request that made him red to the tips of his ears to the blush on his cheeks like he was in shame for asking such a thing. However, Lanto only smiled softly and said that there was a maid in the House who knew basic Faith magic to help teach him until he can get a teacher.

He stuttered, waving his hands in front of his face, and was stuttering out denies and saying that it wasn’t necessary but Lanto only raised an eyebrow at the boy and huffed slightly. 

“I merely want to give you comfort. If learning the magic of the faith helps then I will help in any way that I can.”

Who knew children could grow so red. 

It was a little foolish to think that Anshul would instantly come to him when he wanted something, however, he would relish the small favors or questions the little boy would ask him. They were never frequent, maybe twice a week, three if he was lucky, but he was getting somewhere with the young Ubert. 

Slowly he got to know the middle child more than not. Anshul wasn’t a physically weak boy but he didn’t like to be outdoors. He rather read about anything and everything. His favorite animals were birds because he liked how they sing to one another. Unlike his older brother, who he said liked sweet things, he liked more of the salted and spicy flavors. Anshul is never cold, he knows how to cook like his brother, he wanted to write a book one day, he wanted to become a gremory because he wanted to learn how to heal. 

Slowly the days went by and he was able to gain the trust of little Anshul so much that he no longer questioned the habit of the little boy coming to his studies in the early mornings and picked out a book and read alongside him when he’s doing paperwork. Sometimes he would test him on his knowledge on the subject he was reading that week and other times he would allow him to glimpse over his reports and other letters from the neighboring domains. 

Slowly time had managed to catch Anshul. 

Slowly Aster started to question him too. 

Aster, unlike Anshul who asked for things at such a slow pace and immediately asked him if he would get her a horse out of the blue.

Looking back at it, he could tell that the girl was joking. She had smiled and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that told him that she didn’t expect much, maybe even a doll or a woodcut of the animal instead. 

He relished the fact that he managed to get her to be rendered speechless when he showed her the black foal he had bought from a breeder two weeks later. Her steps were slow and silent when she went up to the baby and stroked her nose. The young foal whined and nibbled at her tied up hair in turn. 

Then she promptly burst into tears. 

Aster must have seen this as a test because after that day she was no longer shy to his presence. She would jump to him when they were in the same room and chatted with him for far longer. Her dresses were now laced with small bits of laces and beads and her clothes now had a space for her riding gear. She would play with her hair and weave beads, ribbons, and trinkets of all kinds. Her time was spent outdoors most of the day before coming to the dinner table with a streak of dirt on her cheeks, her braid coming loose, or her hands stained in green.

With both younger children finally warming up to him he had only needed to wait for Ashe.

It was proven to be far more difficult than he originally hoped. 

It was not to say that Ashe avoids him. Whenever they were in the same room he could make polite conversation about his day, how well Lanto was doing, and how grateful he was to take him in. Then nothing else. He doesn’t talk about himself, nor his siblings, or his studies. All he ever spoke of when face to face was all about Lanto and his gratitude and no more. 

Another pet peeve that Lanto had was that he never called him anything other than ‘My Lord’. It was always ‘My Lord’ this and ‘My Lord’ that. Never anything other than ‘My Lord’ was always spoken to addresses him when it came to Ashe which was worrying after his half-year stay. Even Anshul and Aster had gotten the habit of calling him simply Lanto, or in Aster’s case, Lord Lan. He had asked around the staff at the start of his first month's stay and many agreed that it was that he was older than the three so he had gotten used to the mention of his title rather than his name. However, it became evident that that wasn’t the case. 

And so Lanto tried to mend a relationship with the boy but he was always an arms reach. Saw him watching the garden? Always denying the ability to go in whenever he pleased. Heard that he liked to cook? Simply smiled and said that he didn’t want to trouble the staff when he was allowed to cook any time. Remember how he tried to steal one of the fiction books from before? Simply looked away and said it was merely a hobby. 

Ashe was a polite little boy but he was also distant from how he placed himself away from everyone and anyone.

Lanto was already considering giving up from applying to the boy after for so long until late summer came.

His son came to him asking if he could help him watch his training with the bow. While he was talented with the weapon he was also clumsy when he wasn’t using the said weapon at full attention. That fine little detail had cost them a lot of misfires and close calls. Too many in fact.

So he agreed and followed his son to the training room and opened the door to see little Ashe reading in one of the benches in the back. Little Ashe who was quick to look up and start frantically apologizing for intruding. Before he could do anything to put the boy at ease Christophe laughed and said that it was fine for him to watch. 

“But only if you stay behind one of those fences we arranged,” his son pointed out with a smile.

Ashe looked from his son to the fences that had many dents in them. A few had a couple of broken tips of metal stuck in them while others were littered with broken off wooden sticks. Ashe looked from his son to the fences and back again before he moved to pick himself up and moved behind one of the wooden shields. He poked his head out curiously when his son started to test out one of the bow’s strings before settling with a steel bow with a nod.

The training was routine for Christophe as much as spotting was Lanto’s. He waited at the sidelines and watched Christophe get a good distance away from his target, a wooden circle painted in red and white. Christophe got into a stance, his shoulders slightly loose and his feet in a line, his body facing away from the target slightly and his hands stretching the bowstring with eased practices and bent his arm straight.

His eyes were glowing teal and confidence was burning from him like a fire in the night.

He took a deep breath. 

He let go.

Bullseyes.

He breathed out.

And a gasp was heard. 

Both son and father looked away from the target to where Ashe was. He was no longer behind the fence, in fact, he was a couple of steps in front of fencing. His eyes were wide, cheeks gaining a slight blush that pronounced his freckled skin, and his hands clenched into small fists. His book was forgotten on the flooring that Lanto knew Ashe frets about more than once whenever he was told to place the book down on the floor for just a bit. That all seemed to be long forgotten.

The boy was starstruck. 

And before anyone could do anything he took a step forward. Then another. And another. 

He was coming up to them.

But it wasn’t him that Ashe went up to. 

It was Christophe. 

And slowly the pieces started to click.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Christophe wanted to cry but only felt the sting of dull pain behind his eyes. A phantom pain that is.

The remainder of that only made him want to cry even harder. 

“Please,” he begged. “Just go. Leave! Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

As expected his words could not be heard and he could only see the eyes that he grew to love so much, harden impossible further when the sound of footsteps on cobblestone echoed throughout the fog. The outline of a person, a woman, was growing closer and closer. 

He could feel the tensity surrounding the area, the villagers covered in armor stepping back in hesitation. 

The figure glowed red, a familiar color, and Christophe flinched away.

The air was alive, vibrating in such power that he cowered away. To think that he used to be comforted by such glow. Smiles and laughter, the pride of a job well done, shouts of warnings, and cheers of victory. Memories that he knew all so clearly.

_ And yet… there was something he was missing. Something that was inarguable  _ **_wrong_ ** _ and he didn’t know what. Was it the way his hands could touch but never move? The shouts and cries he made into the howling night but never heard? Why do his eyes linger on the displays of sweets and summer berries yet his stomach would never even dull?  _

_ He knows what he is and he can’t understand it. But there's something wrong. Something was  _ **_under_ ** _ his skin, the way he breath felt  _ **_normal_ ** _ , and how he back always  _ **_burning-_ **

_ Something is wrong but what is  _ **_it_ ** _? _

Pained groans and muffled thuds told the story of two defeated. The villagers that were in front of his father were now down for the count, not able to get up.

“It's you.” The ragged filled voice of his Father echoed and made him shiver. “Thunderstrike Cassandra!”

“Yes,” Christophe said, pleading. “So you have to go! She will hurt you, Father. She can kill you!”

Words hit nothing but air, his Father did not turn to him but he could see the rage and the way that he bared his teeth into the growl of a hungry predator. 

His Father was in fury and he was out for blood.

A sob cut through his throat but no tears could come out. His eyes slowly placed more phantom pain of pressure behind them, his nose tickled with irritation, and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

He was drowning.

“It was your wretched zealotry that killed my son!”

“Father,” his voice cracked. “Please, just go! Hide and never turn back! Take Aster and Anshul away from here and hide. Don’t let my life be the one that ends your life!”

_ And he all can think of are cold walls and rusted metals. No light, no day. Where is the moon? His bow is gone, what of his hand? Drip, drop, echoes through my mind. Why does it feel empty? Cuts and burns with blood dried up. No longer pale but dark with grim. _

_ Why am I here? _

Cassandra did not flinch but instead gave off a smile with all teeth, white shiny pearls that sparkled sharply. “The only name I answer to is Catherine.”

His mind stopped. 

_ ‘Huh?’ _ He thought.  _ ‘Why would you- when did- but you said that you would-’ _

_ ‘No.’ _

_ His head  _ **_hurts_ ** _! _

“Prepare to taste the blade of one who serves the goddess. Now you face a Knight of Seiros!”

Why… why won’t eve- “-ryone  **STOP** !”

He was never worth the trouble. Never. So, please…

Go back. 

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Ashe could only watch when Lanto was deflecting a sword with his lance. His stead, Charlotte, one of his sister's favorites, was forced to back up quickly when Catherine moved to slash her sword again. Catherine saw this in time however and she instead moved to slash at the poor horse. A ribbon of blood flew and he could see the way Charlotte wobbled. One more slash and she was down.

One more slash and Lanto was upon his feet.

One more slash and Catherine moved.

One more slash and the Professor came barreling in.

One more slashed the battle ended.

Ashe screamed.

~¤~|Ω|~¤~

Sothis could feel something. Something was happening outside.

Breathing in and closing her eyes.

When she opened them again she was no longer on her throne.

Battle did not feel strange to her, if anything, a battlefield such as this made her body wanting to jump in as well. The feel of a gripping sword and a shield of blessing. The area in chaos yet she was always the one in control. Men do not die, her people will not die.

However, that feeling was not her own, or at least, not now. She had other matters to worry about.

Something is here. 

Her presence was covered. Byleth has yet to feel her. Her eyes were solely on the man that was cut down.

Lanto, she remembered, was the threat they were ordered to kill.

Looking at the man she could feel nothing but a grief so deep that all his warmth was barely holding on.

This man had lived a sad life, but not for himself. He lived for someone else. A selfless act.

This man will live in a place where he could erase his grief and replace it with the little bit of warmth he still has in him. It will grow and nurture itself. 

The man is dying and there is nothing else to do. 

Yet there is something here, something that made her hairs rise unnaturally yet draws her in.

Something is here, something is going to happen.

So she watched and waited because there is nothing else she can do.

All she needed to do was wait.

And wait she did.

Then her skin  **glowed** .

But that was not by her actions, but the actions in front of her.

The man that was destined to die in a matter of minutes was glowing in magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figure it out, thats all I'll say

**Author's Note:**

> Ok ok ok, first off, I saw a prompt on a ghost haunting a school and that they help a kid with his homework which my mind instantly latched on and thought, who would fit this?
> 
> 10 mins later I was in front of my laptop going 20 miles per hour. Yeah, it was fun just thinking this idea up that Glenn would be the ghost that haunts Annette when she has a (growing) crush on his little (not so little) brother. I find that funny for some reason...Oh well!


End file.
